


I'd Take Care of You

by MyHeartOfHearts



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A little bit of angst, Abby sucks in this one, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Image, But echo is a good person too, Eating Disorders, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this instead of talking to my therapist lol, Med Student Clarke Griffin, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Suicide, Minor Bellamy Blake/Echo, Murphy is a good friend, Trigger warning for shitty parents, greys anatomy references, just because they date the love of your life before you doesnt make them butholes, no beta we die like men, sorry I am projecting, stop doing him dirty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24739222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyHeartOfHearts/pseuds/MyHeartOfHearts
Summary: Clarke didn’t know why she had stopped eating. She just had. Maybe it was the loads of biology and chemistry homework she was behind, not being helped by the dark cloudy days that had taken over the city of Arkadia, making her long to curl up in a cozy sweatshirt, bury her head under her duvet. Clarke didn’t think she was ugly, not necessarily. She knew she was a bit on the thicker side, but always prided in how well she could fill out jeans, turn heads in cropped tops. Maybe it was the fact that her father's death was always fresh on her mind. A deep pit in her stomach that she was never fully able to reconcile, her mourning period brief, rushed onto the next task of her life before the tears had even had time to dry.PLEASE DON'T read this if you are easily triggered. Talks about eating disorder and other mental health issues.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Echo
Comments: 72
Kudos: 327





	1. The Carousel Never Stops Turning

**Author's Note:**

> Stand beside it, we can't hide the way it makes us glow  
> It's no good unless it grows, feel this burning, love of mine  
> Deep inside the ever-spinning, tell me does it feel?  
> It's no good unless it's real, hillsides burning  
> Wild-eyed turning 'til we're running from it  
> I'd take care of you if you ask me to  
> Take Care- Beach House
> 
> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> Eliza Taylor is literally a beautiful soul inside and out, I don't condone eating disorders, I don't think she's anything less than amazing and she shouldn't change a single thing about herself. This is my safety and comfort and in a way, my coping skill. I hope whoever reads this may find some of the same comfort. Remember help is always there for you.   
> National Eating Disorder Hotline: 800-931-2237  
> OR Text: NEDA to 741741

“Clarke? Are you home?” Octavia knocked on her door a couple times before bursting in.

Clarke laid her book down, rolling her eyes. “Come on in! I’m not masturbating or anything.” 

The dark hair girl bounced into the room, spinning and dropping herself onto Clarke's bed. “Har  Har . So. Don’t get mad, ok? But-”

The blonde closed her eyes and groaned before scooting so she was closer to the other girl. “What did you do O?”

_ “ _ _ But _ I think I may have found a solution for our problem.” 

“What problem?”

“The roommate problem.” The younger girls' hand had wormed its way into hers, pinkies linked together. 

Octavia and Clarke shared an apartment, one that was close enough to campus that Clarke could walk most days, take the car on days she really felt out of it. They had been living together for over a year now, a steady and comfortable relationship between them. The girls had been friends for over five years now, so long that it felt like Clarke had grown up with Octavia, relying so heavily on the younger girl, that at times, Clarke wondered which one of them was older. Octavia had helped her through some of the hardest parts of her life, her exterior never cracking when the blonde laid something new on her,  _ needed her _ . 

“You’re going to stay here forever with me till we grow old and die, right?” 

“You know you’d get sick of me eventually.” The tiny girl scooted closer, bumping their shoulders.

“So, what great plan does Octavia Blake have this time?” 

“Well, I’m not moving in with Lincoln for another month, and Bellamy’s lease is ending around that time and-”

She didn’t finish before Clarke had sat up. “ O , no. Oh no. Oh no  no no . Tell me you didn’t.” 

Octavia pressed her lips together, squeezing Clarke's hand. “Better to ask  forgiveness than permission. Right?” 

Clarke had met Bellamy numerous times throughout her relationship with Octavia. He could have passed off as O’s twin, with their same color hair and eyes, his skin only slightly more olive than his sisters. But where Octavia was loud and boisterous, her emotions written on her face, her heart very clearly on her sleeve, Bellamy was almost the exact opposite. He was quieter, face closed off, body language unreadable. He was a smooth talker, he fit easily wherever he went, a smile and a few jokes and you felt like you had been friends with him forever. He was smart, Clarke would never admit it, hating the way he almost taunted her with his knowledge, always having to have the last word in any conversation they had. He had his friend group, and she had hers, crossing over only when O was the mediator. The times they had mingled, had bounced into each other, Clarke had always gotten the feeling that he didn’t like her very much.

_ “Princess.”  _

_ “You know I have a name, right?”  _

_ “Where’s the fun in that?” _

_ “Just stick to my name other Blake, is that so hard to do?”  _

_ “Well I know who the buzzkill of the group is.”  _

_ “Seriously? What’s your issue?”  _

Octavia had to break it up, had to apologize for her brother. That was the first time, definitely not the last. 

_ “Let me guess, Princess, you grew up here, don’t know anything other than this little town and your mothers fame?” _

_ “What the hell are you trying to say?” _

_ “You have a car and you don’t even drive it. I’m sure you have your very own parking spot at Griffin General. Life must be so hard for you. So please, keep telling us about your first world problems. Everyone in this town is the same, hate to break it to you Princess. You’re no different.” _

_ Clarke could never pinpoint how the fights would start, only that Bellamy would always have the last word, smirking as she would leave the conversation, the group, the room. He had decided who she was, before she could even tell him herself. _

“He doesn’t  _ not _ like you, he’s just cautious and protective . It takes him  time.” 

“He thinks I'm a snobby rich brat . It took him all of  two seconds and my  mom's name to convince him.”

“He just doesn’t know you. I told you, we were raised different , and he’s a dumb boy. He’ll come around .” 

“So, what, I’m supposed to be nice to him till he decides I’m not an asshole?” 

“He’s not-”

“O, he calls me a princess!”

“It’s nice, it’s a nickname.”

“It’s condescending and you know it.”

“Just give him time,  _ please _ .” 

She tried her best to be careful around him, knowing that if she jumped, he would catapult. O wanting so badly for her best friend and brother to get along. Clarke, stifling her smart remarks in lieu of  eye rolls , grinding her teeth when he called her princess, always talking around him.  _ She tried for Octavia. _

Logically, she knew it wasn’t fair to be so annoyed with him. Had she met Bellamy when she was younger, she would have fought him, fire with fire. Younger Clarke had more spark, more energy and life.  _ More happiness. _ That was, of  course , before her father had died. 

Murphy and Octavia were the only friends in their group who sincerely knew Clarke. Knew that she was broke as a joke, the only reason for her being in the Arks med program on a full ride was a dead father. Knew that she barely talked to her mother if she could help it, that the Griffin namesake had nothing to do with her. If he gave her the time of day, she could prove him wrong. He didn’t know why she shared an apartment, why her car was a five-hundred-dollar piece of crap that hardly started half the time. Clarke had always been willing to tell him. _ Tell him that she would rather be homeless with her father by her side than be living in the grandest palace in the whole world. _ But after knowing him for five years, she felt like they had passed the stage of real friendship, instead settling for a weird acknowledgment of each other's existence, Bellamy throwing something sarcastic her way, her retorting, and then they went back their own ways. It would be almost pathetic for her to try at this stage. She would never admit it, but sometimes it hurt that he had placed all his ideas of a silver spoon onto her. He was a nice person, she saw how he was with his friends, _ with O. _ That closeness she had always wanted, had envied. She had O, but sometimes it wasn’t the same. Her and Bellamy could have fought on the same side. But after five years, her sadness had just turned to annoyance.

They had shaken hands and no sooner had the title  _ “Clarke Griffin _ ” left her mouth that he was smirking.  _ “Oh I know all about you, _ _ Princess _ _. You’re the one studying to be a nurse, huh?” “Doctor. Actually.” “They  _ _ let blondes into the med program _ _? Wait, let me guess, special treatment from mommy? _ ” Maybe he had been joking, but it stung. He wasn’t the first person to make fun of her looks or who her mother was for that matter.  And a having your mother as the chief of surgeons, in a hospital with her last name, _your_ last name, definitely did not help.  But Clarke worked her ass off to get where she got,

\- just so her mother could take credit. 

“Clarke please, just at least think about it.” O had her head on the girl's shoulder, her lips pouting.

“What did you do this time?”  Monty sat across from them in the dinner, Jasper and Murphy appearing almost out of nowhere behind him , surrounding their small table. Murphy scooted closer to Clarke, hand reaching over to grab at Octavia’s beer.

“Hey!” 

“She volunteered Bellamy to be my new roommate without even asking me.” Clarke picked up one of the fries in front of her, flicking it at the girl next to her. 

“To be fair, I didn’t say it was a done deal, it would kill two birds with one stone. He’s looking for a place, you’re looking for a roommate.” 

“You’re not worried they’ll murder each other? Jesus Christ talk about most likely to start a war against each other.”

Clarke ignored Murphy, continuing her rant. “First of all, he already thinks it’s a done deal. And second of all, I am not looking for a roommate.” O just looked at the girl, not saying anything as her lips pursed together. “ _ I’m not, _ I’m perfectly fine and I can pay rent on the place by myself.” _Barely._

“ Sure you could Princess! But you can’t pay for good company.” Bellamy Blake slid into the booth, taking the last spot next to Jasper, Nathan Miller scooting in beside him. 

“You’re the good company? Why can’t you move in with Miller?” She addressed him, only able to look at his hazel eyes for a second before turning her attention to playing with the fries.

“Oh, don’t drag me into this. I just came for the beer.” Miller shot her look before also grabbing at  Octavia's beer that had been making its rounds. 

“Move in with Miller and miss an  opportunity to derail your plans? I could never Princess. Sorry you can’t have the whole place to yourself, some of us can’t afford a two bedroom on our own. Why are we even talking about this? I already signed the  lease; thought you would have thrown your bitch fest two weeks ago.” 

She ignored his jab, opting to stare down the girl next to her. “He already signed the lease? O, are you serious?” 

“Fucking hell Bell.” She threw a fry at him, Murphy reaching across to grab it and stuff it into his mouth, murmuring something about wasting food. “We still have like a month, I wanted to ease you into it.” 

The conversation had continued outside of them, Jasper and Monty talking about their latest gaming stream, Murphy trying to run down the waitress to order more food, Bellamy and Miller talking about a coworker of theirs.

The conversation moved on, everyone, even Bellamy and Clarke, finding a spot in all of it. She commented on things, nodded and __ _ hmm’d _ along where she was supposed to. But for the most part, she was just happy to be there and surrounded by everyone. Even Bellamy. The whole gang was like a janky puzzle, each piece fitting in, even if you had to slam it in a couple times. Clarke had never been so thankful for the gang of misfits, even Lincoln who she hardly knew.  _ Even Bellamy who didn't want to know her.  _

Octavia nuzzled Clarke before the check arrived, her hair smelled like the pear shampoo they shared.

No one heard  the blonde when she lowered her voice, addressing her lap. “Octavia, I’m not sick anymore. I don’t need a babysitter.” 

O didn’t look convinced, her hand sneaking its way under the table, pinkies linked again. “Yeah well. Just pretend  _ he _ does, okay?” 

Time passed by too quickly, Clarkes days spent slaving away finishing up her coursework, the end of the year, her first-year residency looming over her. She slept through the nights,  binged on fruit to help her brain,  went to school,  skipped dinner,  ignored calls from her mother, squeezed as much time as she could with Octavia, even if it meant helping her pack her things. 

“I mean, maybe I’m a bit nervous, Lincoln is more of a perfectionist than I am. And what if we just don’t get along together? What if he keeps using my toothbrush, or he keeps moving my stuff, or he eats my leftovers? Oh my God, Clarke, what if he eats my leftovers and pretends he didn't?” 

Clarke reached out, rolling her eyes and grabbing the packing tape next to Octavia, biting off a piece before answering.  “You’ve been dating for two years already. You guys know each other pretty well.”

“Yeah, but what if he hates that I’m messy.”

“O, he knows how messy you are.” 

“Okay, and he knows that I can’t cook, but what if he decides that  he wants a good cook? A good, not messy cook?” The ‘ _ What if  _ _ I’m not good enough _ _?’ _ lingered at the end of her sentence.

Clarke stopped taping the box between her legs, “If he sticks with you after seeing your room, I don’t think there’s anything you can do that will make him run. Besides, he can cook well enough for the both of you. Seriously though. You know how much he loves you.”

“I know.” The girl abandoned the box she was working on, sighing and stretching before leaning back on her hands. “I’m just worried being together twenty-four seven will be too much.”

“For you or for him?”

She scrunched up her face, opened her mouth and closed it. Opened it again. “Him. I could drown myself in him and it wouldn't be enough.”

“Octavia, you know you’re good enough for him, right? In fact, I would say you’re too good, and that no one deserves you. But at least he treats you like he knows that.”

A small smile appeared on her face. “Thanks . He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“I know.” 

The whole gang arrived the day Octavia was moving out. Murphy arriving first, his boots swinging onto the couch as he found yet another weird position to sit in. “Where’s the pizza?” 

O rushed into the living room, smacking the back of his head on her way to the kitchen. “Feet off the couch, Christ, what is it with bisexuals and weird sitting positions? Pizza is at Lincolns place. My place. Whatever. When all this is done.” 

Murphy looked at Clarke, one eyebrow raised. 

“She’s nervous. But she’s right, take your feet off the couch.” 

“Bisexuals do not sit weird, I resent that.” He slumped down anyway, propping his feet, instead, on the coffee table. “I know I’m early, but I’ll have you know I’m not lifting a hand till the designated time has arrived.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “I expected as much. We have to wait for Bellamy to get here with his truck anyway.” 

“Excited for a new Blake?” 

Clarke removed herself from the floor, tucking herself close enough that she could detect the faint smell of cigarettes, somehow his leather jacket still encased in the campfire that they had done more than three months ago.  Close enough so her heart finally relaxed, the feeling of someone else almost grounding her. “It won’t be the same without O here. And I hear he’s cleaner than her, so I guess that’s one plus.”

“Not in the bathroom he isn’t” Octavia bounced through the living room, her singsong voice following her back to her room. 

“Aren’t you supposed to make me feel better about him coming?” She moved her head into Murphy’s shoulder, closing her eyes. 

“Ah, don’t worry Griffin. You’re always welcome to come crash with me.” Murphy was the only one in their gang who lived alone, a janky fire station that no one knew how he afforded, turned to his own bachelor pad. Most of their parties and nights out revolved around his home. 

Clarke opened her mouth to tease him for how many parties he hosted, when the front door slammed open, Bellamy Blake stepping inside the living room.

“honestly, did you guys pack anything?” 

“Don’t look at me, I just got here.” Murphy nudged Clarke and she was forced to look up and address Bellamy. 

“Most of O’s stuff is in her room. _ In boxes _ , chill. You of all people know how she is.”

“You two going to sit there the entire time?” 

Murphy pulled the girl closer. “Yup. If luck will have it, we won’t be lifting a thing.” Clarke laughed into the boys' neck, ignoring whatever remark Bellamy threw their way. 

The process was a lot faster than Clarke was hoping for, the last box emptied from Bellamy’s truck before the sun even had time to set. With eight people helping, even though Monty and Jasper gave up halfway through to play a game of hacky sack in Lincolns kitchen , the entire thing only took about three hours.

“You had a lot more stuff than I remembered.” Clarkes muscles were sore, even bringing her arm up to take a bite of pizza took too much energy. 

Lincoln poked his girlfriend's side. “Don’t worry, there’s room.” 

“And if there isn’t?” 

“We’ll make some.”

Everyone groaned as the lovebirds shared a kiss. Someone throwing a peperoni slice that landed in Octavia’s hair. 

Jasper tried to start a round of “Simp! Simp! Simp!” but shut up after no one joined him, Monty giving the boy a shove and an eye roll. 

“This is why you’re still single, Jas.”

“I’ll have you know ; my mother thinks I’m a catch.”

“So, Bell, when are you going to make us do the same thing for you?”  Octavia talked around the food in her mouth, ignoring the pointed looks from Clarke. 

“My lease ends in a couple weeks. Don’t worry, I’ll buy you guys pizza too.” 

Jasper and Monty cleared their throats. 

“And beer, Jesus.” 

“You better. This was the hardest workout ever. I can’t imagine having to carry stuff up four flights of stairs.” Her and Octavia’s apartment,  _ her apartment _ , elevator was broken. Had been since they moved in. Surely it was some code  violation, but no one seemed to care enough to complain.

Bellamy rolled his eyes at her. “God forbid you have to lift a finger again.”

Octavia kicked her brother. “Be nice. Bellamy probably has more shit than I do. So yeah. Beer and Pizza and drinks on you for the next four weeks?” 

Bellamy groaned. “Or I’ll do it myself and save a couple hundred.” 

“Dude. You work at a bar. Drinks are always on you anyway.” Murphy snorted, stuffing another slice of pizza in his mouth.

Clarke pushed her plate away, half her pizza balled up in a napkin she had stuffed in her pocket. If she had eaten, she would probably be feeling sick right now. A part of her thought that they would have to get along, now that they were supposed to live together. But Bellamy still didn’t seem to care.

If he wanted things to stay the exact same, she wasn’t going to put in any effort to change them.

For a while, Clarke had the entire apartment to herself. She did her homework in Octavia's now empty room, enjoying the way the sun lingered in here longer than any of the others. The tv in the living room left on, a background noise to convince the girl that the apartment wasn’t empty. That she wasn’t alone. The words on the page before her swam and repeated themselves, she must have been reading the same paragraph, repeatedly, but the words were new every time her eyes scanned the page. She knew she wasn’t retaining anything but kept going, begging anything to stick. After a while longer, Clarke laid her head on the books, wondering If she could get osmosis to do the work for her. The light was fading, like the sun had given her a gift but was now gradually taking it back. The cold and emptiness of Octavia’s room only making her feel a deeper nothing that was spreading in her chest. Her phone vibrated somewhere behind her, but she didn’t bother getting it. 

By the time Clarke woke up, the room was entirely dark. Slowly she pealed the anatomy book from her cheek, rooting through the darkness for her phone so she could turn the flashlight on. It was past midnight. She had two missed calls, a million texts from Jasper and Monty going back and forth over God knows what in the group texts. She could  still hear the television, a faint blue light making its way to her as whatever show kept on playing to an empty audience. She didn’t bother turning it off on her way to her room. 

Clarke didn’t know why she had stopped eating. She just had. Maybe it was the loads of biology and chemistry homework she was behind, not being helped by the dark cloudy days that had taken over the city of Arkadia, making her long to curl up in a cozy sweatshirt, bury her head under her duvet. Clarke didn’t think she was ugly, not necessarily. She knew she was a bit on the thicker side, but always prided in how well she could fill out jeans, turn heads in cropped tops. Maybe it was the fact that her father's death was always fresh on her mind. A deep pit in her stomach that she was never fully able to reconcile, her mourning period brief, rushed onto the next task of her life before the tears had even had time to dry. 

Clarke didn’t know why, and she didn’t like to think about it. She had almost two years of medical training under her belt, a lifetime of diagnosis and medical garble inside her. The logical part of her brain could nail down exactly what she was doing, what was happening to her body. The thirty pounds she had lost, the fact that she had to sit in the shower so she wouldn’t pass out. If she didn’t think about it or give it a name, then she could pretend it was the stress. The name that she wouldn’t think or say, that meant there was something wrong with her. So she would go on pretending that everything was fine. Just like with everything else in her life.

Bellamy moved in  two weeks later while Clarke was at class. It was a Wednesday, the clouds loomed over everyone, threatening to let loose at any second. The constant low rumble of thunder had kept Clarke distracted throughout the entirety of the lecture, her eyes being pulled to the windows, watching and hoping for the first _ drip drip drip _ of rain. It came to her, twenty minutes later when she was walking home. The clouds splitting as Clarke looked up, an onslaught of water hitting her. She didn’t bother running or trying to get out of it, knowing she would be soaked either way. This was how she arrived home ten minutes later.

“Yo Griffin, fall in the river?” Jasper greeted her as soon as she had walked into the apartment, her shoes barely even off her feet.

“Caught in the storm. What are you doing here?” She looked past the boy, Monty and Bellamy laid out on the couch, Bellamy’s friend Miller sitting next to him. 

“We just finished moving Bellamy in. Want some pizza? You look like a kicked kitten.” He poked at her side, the four layers of wet shirt doing nothing to hide her protruding ribs.

Clarke ignored his comment, continued to stare past the boy, seeing the extra stuff. The boxes still spilling from the kitchen, the extra couch crammed into the living room, a PlayStation haphazardly connected to the tv, the wires snaking through the coffee table and on the floor. There was a shout from the boys, Miller threw something at the screen in protest. “Oh. That was fast.” She gave Jasper a side hug as she moved through the apartment, trying to move quick so her clothes wouldn’t make puddles on the floor. 

“The roof on your convertible break Princess?”  Bellamy paused whatever was on the screen, smirking at her soaked attire. 

She ignored him, rolling her eyes and flicking her wet hair so that droplets went flying his way.  “Just decided to bathe myself in my pool full of millions of dollars.  Welcome to the apartment, other Blake.” 

Living with Bellamy wasn't as bad as Clarke had envisioned. It helped that they were hardly ever in the apartment at the same times. Bellamy off with his girlfriend, picking up extra shifts at the Dropship, the bar where he worked. Clarke didn’t keep track, busy with her own schedule. She had gotten a C on her Macro Biology class. And she was supposed to see her mother on-

That Wednesday . It was a nice day in Arkadia, save for the wind that whipped at Clarke’s hair, causing her to pull her jacket a little closer. A protection from the weather or her mother, she wasn’t sure. 

“We poured so much into this Clarke. You can’t lose sight now when you have less than a year before residency.” 

Abigale Griffin sat poised and sharp before the girl. How someone could look so menacing in pink scrubs, she didn’t know. Two phones and a pager lay on the table before them, surrounded by Abby’s steak, Clarkes untouched salad. She had only picked up her fork so her hands had something to do. 

“My words and influence can only take you so far. Are you even listening?” 

“I’m doing the best I can, you of all people should know how hard it is.” 

“Yet I managed to do it while  holding two jobs. I didn’t have someone offering to bail me out. This isn't even the hard part. What's gotten into you?” 

Clarke opened her mouth to say something, floundering for words to explain, nothing coming out. 

“I don’t want excuses Clarke. You have no idea how embarrassing it is for me to have my own daughter fail a basic course.” 

“It was one C. I wouldn't call that failing.” Clarke stabbed her salad, not meeting the other women's eyes.

“Do you think your father would be proud of this behavior?” 

The lump that had been in her throat throughout the entire meal, got larger. She set the fork down so her mom wouldn’t notice her hands shaking. 

“You’ve been ignoring me, missing classes, barely passing, all for what? So you can prove something by refusing my help? Live in a shitty apartment  for what? To fail school and drown in debt? You’re lucky enough your father put away as much as he did, yet here you are throwing it back in his face. The one thing he wanted for you, the one thing I thought you wanted to do, and you're throwing it away to mope over god knows what. You’re an adult Clarke, I think you’ve proven your point. Now stop throwing a temper tantrum and get your head out of your ass.” 

The wind picked up for a second, Clarkes hair blowing over her face as she tried to keep composed. Cars zooming past their spot in the outside venue. Why her mother chose to sit outside, she didn’t know.  “I never asked him to pay for med school.” She knew her voice sounded weak, she had to fight to keep the tears from her face , thankful her hair was covering the worst of her . 

“But he did. And you’re  more than happy enough using his money to party your life away, get shitty grades and ignore any of my advice. You’re  embarrassing not only his memory, but my legacy as well. Figure out what you want, because I’d rather have you drop out, than make a mockery out of me.” 

They were silent for a bit, the rushing cars and the clinking of silverware the only sounds in Clarkes mind, she could feel her heartbeat. She didn’t bother arguing with her mom, it wasn’t good enough that she took the cheapest apartment, that she split rent, that she tried to tutor on the side. None of that was enough for her mother. It’s not like she had wanted her  father's money. She would have rather had him. “I’m trying. As hard as I can.”

“No, you’re not. You’re running around, acting a damn fool. These are basic courses; I could pass these in my sleep. If you weren't so distracted-”

“ I study hard, I do all the extra credit work. This is the only C I’ve ever gotten. What more do you want from me?” 

“I want you to stop being a disappointment.” 

Jake Griffin was a tall man. For all her life, Clarke had literally looked up to him. He taught her how to walk, how to talk, how to ride a bike. He drove her to all her soccer practices growing up, standing on the sidelines, waving when she would look over. ‘ _ Sorry kiddo, mom had a surgery that ran long. _ ’ He stayed up with her all night to help on school projects, bought her tampons and her first training bra. He drove her to her first date, picked her up after. He bought her the prom dress she wanted, took pictures of her and Lexa on their way out the door.  _ ‘Your mother wishes she could be here but there was an emergency at the hospital.’ _ Throughout her younger years, she felt as if she was raised by one parent. 

Jake Griffin was always there for Clarke. ‘ _ Your mom loves you; she’s just off saving the world, she’ll be back.’ _ Young Clarke had wondered what it would take for her mom to save her, to be there and want her the same way she was for random strangers at the hospital. The girl would sometimes listen as her parents fought, late in the night when Abby would finally get home from work. 

_ “Relax Jake, you’re acting like I ran over her dog.” _

_ “It was her Birthday; you could have at least tried to make an appearance.”  _

_ “It was her eighth Birthday; she’ll hardly remember it when she grows up.” _

_ “No, she’ll remember her own mother missing milestones in her life.” _

_ “You told me you would never make me chose between family and work. That’s exactly what you’re doing now. You knew how difficult it would be for me, how demanding this field is.” _

_ “Yeah, I knew, and I made peace with it. But she’s a child for fucks sake. She doesn’t understand why her mother is never here, never pays attention to her. There shouldn’t even be a choice between work and family, you should have picked us a long time ago Abby.”  _

Maybe it was because it took her mother from her, that Clarke become fascinated in the medical field. The first time she rooted through Abby’s bag, pulling out a stethoscope and listening to the cat's heartbeat, Abby wasn’t even mad. _ “Do you want me to show you how to use it?” _ Clarke had nodded, eager for those eyes to remain on her. And when Abby would come slumping through the doors, hair tangled, scrubs creased, she would go to Clarke, putting the girl on her knee as she went over notes.  _ “One day, you’ll be just like mommy.”  _ Jake bought Clarke a medical kit, letting the girl place fake plasters on him, hello kitty Band-Aids on his forehead, a pink cast tied to his elbow. He would smile at her, and mommy would laugh when she saw the state of him. No one yelled anymore. Instead of being upset, Jake would roll his eyes, joke, _ ‘How am I going to cope when not one, but two doctors show up late to dinner?’ _ he would tickle Clarke, making her promise him she would be on time for dinner. 

Jake Griffin had put away almost four-hundred thousand dollars by the time he died. Had clearly stated in his will that he wanted Clarke to use it to make herself happy. 

_ “It’s enough to get you through med school and then some.” _ Abigale had put her arms around the  girl's shoulders.  _ “You can still make him proud.” _

Her interest in medicine had made Abby happy, it made Jake happy, so it should make Clarke happy too, right? 

Clarke was  tired, starving , the coffee cup in her hand traded for half a cup of vodka at Octavia's housewarming party. 

“I’m so happy you made it!” O was hugging her, the house already filling with their closest friends, music could be heard in the living room. “Where’s Bellamy?” 

“How should I know?” The blonde shrugged, downing the rest of her cup, nose scrunching as the fire made its way  down her  throat, the smell alone almost making her want to vomit. She was going to regret this later.

“You guys didn’t come together?” 

“I came from class,” _ where I spent two hours sleeping through another class,  _ _ had such a vivid dream that I ate a KitKat bar that I woke up freaking out. Probably _ _ going to fail that  _ _ class  _ _ too. _ “I think I saw his truck pulling up when I was coming up though.” 

“I’m surprised you two are still alive.” O led them to the backyard where a majority of people had crowded, seating them on an old couch that had somehow made its home in Lincolns backyard. “How’s that been going anyway?” 

Clarke smiled, already the alcohol in her bloodstream, nothing in her stomach to delay the function. Honestly , she couldn’t remember the last time she had a meal. “It’s fine O. Both of us have our own lives so we haven’t really been in the apartment alone.” 

“You sure you’re alright Griffin? You know I can tell when you lie.” The girl patted Clarke’s head, running her hand down her cheek. She could feel the alcohol turning her skin red.

“I’m great, really.” Her smile was all drunk, no sincere. 

O smiled back, leaning over and squeezing Clarkes shoulder. 

“Griffin!” Murphy's body slammed into the girl, nearly knocking her from her seat. “Where you been hiding?” He sat half on the couches arm rest, half on her lap. 

“Ah, the life of a med student.” Clarke leaned against Murphy’s shoulder. 

“Always going to be flexing that?” Bellamy walked into the conversation, Echo a step behind, their hands linked together. 

“Piss off, you don’t even know the context.” Clarke felt powerful, the alcohol like a shield between her and the rest of the world. 

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “Don’t really need to know the context, Princess.  Entitlement just seems to-”

Clarke interrupted him, pushing Murphy so she could wiggle out from underneath him.  “Bellamy, nobody wants to hear your ‘I’m better than you because I was poor’ speech. I’m here to have fun, don’t ruin the vibe.”

“Fucking snap, Clarke!” Murphy high fived her as she went back inside, Bellamy’s shocked expression adding a little fire to her steps. 

Clarke knew she was way drunker than she should be, having downed another shot before joining her friends in the living room. Really, she just wanted to feel good for once. Something with a lot of bass was bumping through the speakers, her body swaying close to Octavia’s, all logical thoughts had left her. She could feel the sweat at the edge of her scalp, droplets collecting on her forehead. O grabbed onto her, pulling the girl closer as they jumped around. 

“Are you having fun?” She had to lean in and talk into Clarke’s ear. “You look like you’re super drunk.”

“God, I hope so!” 

They laughed, Clarke fumbling with a hair tie as she pulled her sweaty locks out of her face. Somehow Murphy and Jasper were next to her, the bass continuing to pound in everyone's bodies. Somewhere in her head,  she wondered if everyone got as sweaty as she did when they were drunk, wondered how fucked she would be in the morning , wondered just how red her face was. Another song came on and she pulled away from the group, stumbling across the floor, shaky hands opening the patio door. Thankfully it was colder outside, the wind had picked up, the sun already long gone as she took her seat in the darkness. She closed her eyes and the world spun. The perfect level of drunk. 

It had been cloudy in  Arkadia all day, small droplets made their way to the ground, enough to make everything smell beautiful, but not enough to soak her. Clarke almost wished it wasn’t so cloudy so she could search for stars, knowing it wouldn’t matter. She was too drunk anyway, everything dancing in front of her. She could hear Selena Gomez playing inside, someone had put on a slowed down version of Lose You to Love Me, no doubt Monty or Jasper, possibly Lincoln if no one was looking.

_ You promised the world and I fell for it _ . Clarke closed her eyes again, enjoying the coolness of the rain as it hit her burning skin.  _ I put you first and you adored it. _ She could hear the wind through the trees, Lincoln, and Octavia’s, backyard surrounded by heavy wood.  _ Set fires to my forest, and you let it burn. Sang off key to my chorus, cause it wasn’t yours. _ Sometimes, if Clarke closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could pretend that her father was there.  _ I saw the signs and I ignored it. Rose colored glasses all distorted. _ She was two years younger and everything was okay.  _ Set fires to my purpose and you let it burn. _ How the universe could continue, when her world had stopped, she didn’t know. She was supposed to be okay, to let the world keep turning her, aging and forcing her to keep growing.  _ You got off on the hurting when it wasn’t yours.  _ But her world had stopped, and pretending like her insides weren't rotting her, that she hadn't died with her father, seemed to get harder and harder with each passing day.  _ I needed to lose you to love me. _ She could feel the tears running down her face, mixed with small drops of rain, her eyes still tightly shut. 

“Hey!” 

She jolted, wiping her face on her sleeve as Bellamy stepped towards her, closing the glass door behind him. 

“Jesus, you okay dude?” He knelt before her; her eyes shook , everything shook as she tried to focus on him. “Do you need a ride home?”

“No because you  _ must  _ be drunk if you’re asking me.” She laughed, pushing herself off the couch, stumbling and falling back down. 

“ I had one beer, relax cop.” He grabbed her around the arm, almost lifting her whole-body weight as he placed her on her feet. 

“ Other Blake is being nice to me?” She could tell she was slurring, her voice a little too loud. 

“Yeah well, not like you’ll remember this in the morning.” He led her through the gate rather than taking her through the house, his black truck parked on the side of the road. 

“Wait!” Clarke grabbed his arm as soon as he had her buckled into the truck,  “Can you get my bag? It’s inside in the kitchen.” He sighed. “Please .” She knew she was very drunk. “ I need it for class tomorrow.” 

He mumbled something before pointing a finger at her, “Do not puke in the car or I will kill you.” 

He closed the door on her, the silence a deafening roar as she tried to calm her breathing. It was hot but she was scared If she opened the door , an alarm would go off. Time is so funny when you’re drunk. Clarke felt like she sat in his car for twenty minutes, but also two. The quite had her mind bouncing with thoughts, her stomach flipping like she was on swings every time she would close her eyes. She couldn’t tell when Bellamy had gotten back, but suddenly they were driving, the windows down, something gently playing on the radio. Her bag was sat by her feet. Clarke stuck her hand out the window, letting the air gently push it up and down like waves ,  _ like she used to in her dad's car. _

“Not gunna puke on me Princess, are you?” 

“Not going to keep asking me, are you?” She sat up a bit, resting her head on the windowsill, the wind cutting off whatever Bellamy said. They drove in silence after that, the night lights hitting Clarkes closed eyes, tiny wisps of her hair tickling her nose every now and then.  She was still drunk, even more now, or so it felt like. She couldn’t tell  where  they were , everything felt like it was going in and out. She would see a stop sign, see the green from a traffic  light  through her eyelids. Eventually they had stopped. They stayed silent as he pulled into the parking lot, the car stalling as the windows rolled up. They didn’t say anything as they walked up the stairs,  Bellamy practically carrying her  whole weight , helping her along. Noiseless as  he unlocked their door, turning the hallway light on and helping Clarke not fall over as she took her shoes off. Soundless as they made their way to their rooms, Bellamy handing Clarke her bag when she got to her door. 

Maybe if her mother had hugged her, Clarke wouldn’t have done what she did. She never wanted to admit to anyone, but she loved being touched, loved the simple expressions of a hug or someone putting their arms around her. Her friends must have guessed with the amount of times she made them hug her, made Murphy scoot closer to her so she could rest on him, O catching on and reassuringly touching their hands.  _ In her head, she was making up for what her mother had made her lose _ . So really, it was her moms' fault that she stepped into Bellamy, wrapping her free arm around his back, her nose in his shirt. When she sobered up, she would tell herself she didn’t know it was him,  other Blake. The truth was, she didn’t care. She just wanted someone to be there and hold her. It was just her luck that it happened to be Bellamy.

He rubbed her back, giving her a smile as she went to her room. Still silent.

The shrill tone of her alarm took her away from a dream. Clarke grumbled, her eyes heavy with effort to open, a headache blooming from the night before. It was seven, which meant she had forty minutes to get ready if she was going to walk. She stared at her phone instead, the gnawing in her stomach reminding her she hadn't eaten much in the last two days.  She would have to if she wanted to make it through class.  Clarke closed her eyes, knowing if she drifted off, her backup alarm would go off. She just wanted to remember her dream, wanted to remember whatever it was that had her waking up like she had missed something important. Like there should be someone next to her in bed. Usually these kinds of dreams made her sad, reminding her of the loneliness in her own life. But something was different, she woke up and still felt love, could still feel the warmth of someone's breath on her shoulder, her neck. She felt like she wasn't alone. The feeling only lasted till the middle of Clarkes class. 

Right before the teacher had started his lecture, Clarkes phone had vibrated. Through the home screen messages from Octavia she had yet to respond to was one text from an unsaved number, the only one in her phone. Her mom.

** I talked to your Biology professor. He’s willing to give you extra credit to make up for the C. ** ****

Great. As if she didn’t have enough on her plate. Even though her headache was mostly gone, the dead feeling behind her eyes remained, an almost unbearable pain to close them, even for just a second. She tried to take notes, her usual  _ ‘privileged penmanship’ _ as Bellamy called it, was all over the place. Her eyes closing for three seconds too long and her pen slipped down the page, the e in vaccine falling away. Every end to her sentences looking like children's scribbles, half a page in looking like a badly drawn maze. She quit. Slamming her notebook shut and stuffing it into her bag, ignoring the looks of her classmates as she stood up and made her exit. The teacher peering over his glasses at her, continuing his lecture without skipping a beat as she let the study hall door slam behind her. 

Clarke knew that her professors were more lenient with her, that she really did get special treatment. One word, or phone call, or email from the renown Abigale Griffin, causing them to extend their deadlines for her, overlook spelling errors and give her extra credit to make up for her shit grades. These weren't needed when Clarke had first started school, bright eye and on top of her homework, excited to tell her dad about classes, about how well she was doing in them. Relieved at the look of approval on Abby’s face. Back then, school was fun, it was easy, it was something Clarke had looked forward to. Even though she didn’t tell her mother how looking at dead bodies had made her throw up, how much she hated learning the Latin roots to everything, memorize bones and joints. 

Her going to med school had made Jake happy, had made Abigale happy, so  it was supposed to make Clarke happy too . 

The United States Medical Licensing Examination, otherwise known as the Board Exam, is a test all medical students take in their lifetime , multiple times. Because the test comes in three parts. Clarke had been studying all her life for the tests, all the late nights, all the practices, nicking medical supplies and giving Octavia practice IV’s, suturing bananas. All her years of practice had come down to the USMLE test. And Clarke was taking the first part in less than a month. 

“Um.  Decreasing myocardial contractility.” 

“Correct. Clarke do we really have to keep doing this? You know this front to back.” Octavia threw down the stack of cards, groaning and sprawling herself on the couch.

“You know how important this is.” Clarke kept pacing, tying her hair up for the millionth time before squatting down to grab the loose cards. 

“Yeah but we’ve gone over these every day for the past week. At this point, I can even correctly pronounce this medical talk.” Murphy grabbed the flash cards out of Clarkes outreached hands, settling back into a gargoyle like pose next to O. 

“My test is in two weeks, nothing is too much, if anything studying too much is expected. If I quit now, I would be behind.” 

“Jesus Princess, mind toning it down with the medical talk? It’s not exactly kinky.” Bellamy walked out of his room, glancing at the trio before making his way to the kitchen.

“Bel, put on a shirt for shits sake.” O threw a hand over her eyes, Murphy smirked next to her. 

“If my studying bothers you so much, I’m sure you can have intercourse at your girlfriends.” Clarke glared towards the kitchen, watching Bellamy’s black twitch as he took out a carton of something, slamming the fridge door as he turned towards them. 

“Sex, Princess. Call it like it is.” Octavia groaned, plugging her ears as he continued. “Everything is just so prim and proper with you isn’t it? No wonder you’re not getting any, with that attitude.” 

Clarke sent him a glare before turning back to the two on the couch. “Keep going, next section.” Murphy and O exchanged looks. “Come on guys, please?” 

Bellamy rolled his eyes, stalking back to his room, orange juice still in his hands.

Murphy cleared his throat. “A  thirty-two-year-old woman with type one diabetes mellitus has had progressive renal failure over the past two years. She has not yet started dialysis. Examination shows no abnormalities. Her hemoglobin concentration is nine. Nine something. Hematocrit is twenty-eight percent, and mean corpuscular volume is ninety-four something” He stumbled a bit, crinkling his nose at the weird symbols and words. “A blood smear shows normochromic, normocytic cells. What is the likely cause?” 

She tore her eyes away from the other Blake before his bedroom door shut. “Erythropoietin deficiency.”

“Correct to whatever it was that you just said.”

The first part of Clarkes Board Exam was in two weeks. She was studying, she knew she was studying. Her other exams over, fact after fact, organs and bones and ounces and pounds, all crammed into her head. Board questions, real life scenarios running through her head, night and day. In the back of her head, she knew she wasn’t eating enough, not sleeping enough. But that was all part of the process . It’s okay that she wasn’t eating,  that she was  waking up too early, staying up too late. That’s what all med students do.  _ Right? _

And it wasn’t even her fault that she was getting up early; other Blake in the kitchen at 6AM, whirling a blender, blasting REO Speedwagon. 

“Gotta get pumped for the morning run Princess!” Is what he had told her the first time. When she had stumbled out of her room, hair matted and dented from leaving it in a bun overnight. 

“Are you kidding me? You can’t be any quieter?” She had stood in the middle of the living room, her oversized t-shirt and sweats with Cheeto prints, hanging off her. 

“Sorry your majesty, I live here too!” He smirked at her, turning the music up. “AND I CAN’T FIGHT THIS FEELING ANYMORE!” 

Clarke had picked up one of the pillows from the couch, flinging it towards the kitchen, not bothering to hang around and see if it made its mark. 

She still wasn’t used to it, a week later, still waking up annoyed, the pillow over her ears not helping a bit as the sound of Creedence Clearwater mixed with Bellamy’s deep voice vibrated through her. She had stopped getting up to yell at him, stopped throwing pillows, and even the flip flops by the door after the other Blake had moved them. If she wasn’t staying up studying, she would almost be happy that the boy was getting her into the habit of early rising, something her mother had tried countless times. She would never tell the boy that though, especially since she felt so sleep deprived, her notes on muscle dystrophy scattered in the bed, alarm clock two whole hours away from going off. The sun wasn’t even out yet, just a dull glow coming through her window, a promise of what was to come. Waking up early gave Clarke more time to think, Bellamy’s voice still belting out lyrics, still refusing to let her sleep anymore. She was tired of thinking though, knowing that if she let her mind mull things over, that if she settled on something, it would become more real. And there was a lot of things Clarke did not want to become real. 

Her stomach flipped, a rumble that felt like it was eating itself. If she laid in bed any longer, her mind would start analyzing that rumble, why there was a rumble.  _ How Clarke hadn’t eaten in two days. _ She threw the covers off and got up. It was too early for anyone but the other Blake to be up, Clarke already having sent texts to Murphy and O, and after twenty minutes Jasper and Monty. No responses. 

Throwing her door open only caused the singing to get louder.

“Rise and shine Princess!” He was working over the stove, an empty egg carton on the counter. 

She flipped him off, getting her designated water bottle out of the fridge before storming to the couch. 

“What no breakfast? Didn’t anyone tell you it’s the most important meal?” He was looking back at her over the kitchen island as she huddled further into the couch. 

“Not at six fucking AM it isn’t.” She grabbed for the remotes, turning to the weather channel. More rain. 

“Aw, come on your highness, let me make you something. You’re looking a little smaller these days.” 

Clarke felt her body freeze, a neutral expression on her face even though she felt like screaming at him. Her eyes stayed on the  tv . “I’m not your charity case.” 

“Don’t be like that. We gotta be friendly eventually. We do live together you know.” 

She turned the weather off, knowing he was just going to keep bugging her. “How are you so chipper and happy at this time of day? Fuck off. Besides, you’re five years too late, other Blake.” 

Two days till the exam. Oddly enough, the closer it came, the more relaxed Clarke felt. 

“You mean, you’re not going to make me ask you questions that involve words I can’t even pronounce?” Murphy was crouched in a chair in front of her, a cup of dark roast in his hands. 

“I think.” She took a deep breath “I’ve studied enough.” Clarke was nursing her own cup of coffee. The hipster coffee joint close to Murphy’s home that they inhabited most Fridays was surprisingly empty. The sun had barely risen. 

“Are you okay?” He leaned over, dramatically taking her temperature with his free hand. “Are you sick?” 

She swatted his hand, smiling slightly. “Yeah. Just. If I pass at this point, I pass.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And if I don’t. I don’t.” 

“And you’re okay with not passing?” 

“I’m okay with the outcome being out of my control from here on out.” When Murphy kept looking at her like she had two heads, she sighed. “I’ve studied my ass off. There’s nothing more I can do now.” 

They were silent for a while. Someone in the kitchen dropped a dish, a loud clang breaking through the quiet, Murphy and Clarke looking around for the noise before going back to their coffees. 

“Seriously, Clarke, not trying to beat a dead horse, but are you okay? You seem. Quieter lately, not like yourself.” 

She avoided his eyes, watching the cars pass by, stop for the light, keep going. “I’ll be better once the stress of this is over. It’s just been a  crazy few months .”  _ It wouldn’t. _ Because if she passed the first test, it would only get harder, her first year of interning, long hours at the hospital, even less sleep. And if she didn’t pass. She would have to deal with her mother’s  disappointment .  _ Her fathers. _

“How is it with Bellamy?” 

“It’s alright.” She wasn’t lying. For some reason the other Blake had been semi nice to her. He still clanged about at the but crack of dawn, still called her princess, still had to comment on everything, still got the last word. But he was being nice, well nice for him. Clarke wasn’t sure how to feel about it. The fact that she had given up on trying with him, right when he seemed like he was putting effort. She was too tired to put much brain power towards it, figure out what his issue was.  _ Why he kept offering her food. _ “I’m studying and he’s off doing other Blake things. We haven’t killed each other yet.” 

“He still up at the light?” 

“ _ Before _ the light. And yes. He’s amicable at best. But still doing everything to annoy me.” 

“You’re still coming  tonight , right?” 

“Is he still going to be there?” 

“Come on! I’ll be buffer, I swear. Besides, how else will you get to that friendship level, if you  keep refusing to hang out with him?” 

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at her now lukewarm coffee.  “Fine. But only because I miss you and O.”

Murphy laughed. “We miss you too.”

Murphyyy

** All right everyone, movie recmnds, go. **

Jas

** Black Panther! **

Monty

** Again dude, really? We should do Wonder Woman! **

Jas

** And I say, again dude, really? As if that’s better. You just love Gal. **

Monty 

** If love is a crime, lock me up. **

Jas

** Cops are on their way. **

O!!!

** Can we please start watching Ozark? <3 I’ll love ya’ll forever. Lincoln says Ozark too.  **

Murphyyy

** Liar **

Other Blake

** Dunkirk. And if letting partners vote counts, then Echo says Dunkirk too. **

Monty

** I thought your partner was Miller lmao **

Other Blake

** Keep laughing Monty.  **

Murphyyy

** You guys suck ass. My vote is girl with the dragon tat. I get two votes since its my place :) **

O!!!

** Eat my ass murphy.  **

Murphyyy

** I don’t think Lincoln would like that.. But I mean.. I’m down **

Other Blake

** Dude. Really. **

Clarke moved the blanket that was over her, grabbing her phone, scrolling through the conversation that kept going off. She had a couple hours to kill before heading to Murphy’s, deciding to spend it on catching up on the sleep that Bellamy was denying her. But her phones vibrations kept waking her up. Again, he’s keeping me from sleep. She groaned, moving the duvet so she could breathe out of a tiny hole, typing her response before turning it to silent, setting an alarm for two hours before closing her eyes again. Knowing her recommendation would get thrown away,  hitting send anyway.

** Portrait of a Lady on Fire.  **

One side effect that Clarke was not expecting, was just how angry she would become. She knew why she saw spots when she would stand up, and why she had the most vivid dreams of stuffing herself.  _ Why she had passed out that one time.  _ But she never realized how angry she would become. Her emotions felt all over the place, like she was going to snap at any moment. And for once she was extremely thankful that she was busy, that she couldn't see O and Murphy that often. Even having other Blake around, though little  he was , made her want to scream. It took all her strength to not yell, and Clarke just wasn’t feeling that strong anymore. 

Clarke wasn’t an outright mean person, at least she didn’t like to think she was. She was sarcastic and witty, she liked to joke around and poke fun. But she always kept herself in check. Sidestep the truth if it meant sparing someone's feelings. Her mother called it weakness. Her father called it excellent bedside manners. Clarke knew she had anger inside her, but it wasn’t until she had stopped eating that she found out just how much. Her hands would shake, her stomach feeling like a blackhole and she would have to do everything in her power not to scream, not to pick up the nearest object and launch it at her target. It didn’t have to be anything big, someone giving her the wrong look, a text from her mom, even Bellamy’s singing in the morning. All of it made her feel like exploding. But she would swallow it and hope her body ate it up. Bellamy’s voice in the morning had the same  number of calories  as a bagel with cream cheese. At least, it  fueled her the same way. 

Murphy lived in a three-story firehouse, right in the heart of Arkadia. It had poles going from the second floor to the first, a multi car garage with walls so high you could build your own nightclub in it. The first time Clarke had gone there, she had to have Murphy show her where the bathroom was. After her father died, she lived in the firehouse for two months. It was a second home to her. She had counted the tiles in the kitchen, had memorized every scrape and dent in the bathroom. She didn’t even knock anymore when she came over.

Everyone was sitting in the main hall of the fire station. Three couches not even crammed into the space, a large dining table that seated the whole gang and plus some, and a tv bigger than anyone’s paycheck easily fit the room. Rich. Murphy was rich, crazy, rich, loaded. Bellamy never seemed to make  _ him _ feel like shit for it. Clarke wasn’t sure who knew that he outright owned the firehouse. Didn’t buy anything second hand, all his jeans were Dolce and Gabbana, hand tailored, ‘Jesus Murphy, you have a tailor for your clothes?’ ‘What? I’m not dropping three thousand for a shirt that doesn’t fit right.’ yep. Tailored. 

“Yo Griffin! You made it!” Jasper waved at her from the second couch, looking over Monty’s head as she dropped her stuff on the table, shedding her now wet coat. “Gang’s all here!” 

Clarkes eyes took in everyone, Bellamy glancing at her, no sign of Echo beside him. Lincoln smiled and waved from his seat next to Octavia, who seemed to be in an intense argument with Monty. 

Murphy walked in from the kitchen, two large bowls of popcorn in each hand. “Clarke! Come help me get the rest of the shit?” 

She nodded, briefly waving before walking to the kitchen, Murphy hot on her trail, hand’s now empty. 

“So, what did you guys vote on?” She grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, hopping onto the kitchen island, tracking Murphy. She felt like she was going to pass out.

“Wonder Woman.” He popped another popcorn bag into the microwave.

“Ugh, who caved?” 

“Not sure, but I’m pretty sure there was a bribe involved, money exchanged hands.” 

Clarke snorted. “Why is it that we can never settle on anything? We should start pulling slips of paper instead. Otherwise we’re going to be watching Wonder Woman for the rest of our lives and Monty will be broke.” 

They stayed silent for a while, the whirl of the microwave and Clarkes leg hitting the cabinets below her, the only penetrating sound. 

“You ready for your test?” 

She could tell he was looking at her, her hands playing with the wrapper on the bottle. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

“When's the meeting with the Mommy dearest?” 

“Tomorrow.”

“You going to go?” 

“Have to, unless I want to get yelled at.” She laughed a little, putting on a cranky voice “No wire hangers, ever!” Murphy rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“Aww, Princess, trouble in paradise?” Bellamy slid into the kitchen, smirking as he walked right past Clarke, her leg kicking out too late and missing his thigh. He ignored her glaring, going right to the fridge before addressing Murphy. “You still have the beer from last week?” 

Murphy gave the girl an apologetic look, his hand brushing her shoulder as he went to show Bellamy where the drinks were. 

“You two going to gossip in here the entire night?” He had a six pack in his hands now. Murphy had gone back to staring at the microwave. 

“That depends. You going to be an asshole to me the entire night?” The words popped out of her before she could stop them, the spark of anger so short, so close to blowing. Clarke tried to keep her face as cold and blocked off as possible as she stared him down. Her hands were starting to shake.

“Princess, I'm hurt,” his hand free hand came to rest above his heart, face in mock sadness. “genuinely. But also, everyone is waiting for you. God forbid something happens without Clarke Griffin there to make sure it runs smoothly.”

“And God forbid other Blake isn’t always around the corner to say some dumb shit.” She jumped off the counter, she had to hold on as a rush passed through her, trying to look menacing as she turned to other Blake, who was still standing by the fridge, still holding the beers, still with a smirk on his face. “What is your issue with me?”

"Seems like you’re the one with the issue.” He raised his eyebrow, crossing his arms. 

“Can you not just be civil for one-night, other Blake?” She had taken a few steps towards him. 

“Clarke,  wanna take the drinks to the living room?” Murphy was trying to help, trying to buffer. “The popcorn is almost done, I’m sure we can-”

Clarke ignored him.

Bellamy  interrupted him. “Aw, what’s the matter? Did Daddy not give you your allowance today?” 

Clarke could vaguely hear Murphy swear as she got in Bellamy’s face. “What the  _ fuck, _ did you just say to me?” 

To his credit, he looked a little scared of the five-foot five  girl . He let out a laugh. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you ask him to buy you some hearing aids, and you won't need me to repeat my-” 

He didn’t finish as Clarkes fist crashed into the wall by his head. She heard a pop, her wrist burned but all she could focus on was the absolute shock on Bellamy’s face. She couldn’t hear what he said over the ringing in her ears, the rush of adrenaline already taking over as she stepped back and turned around. Both boys just standing in shock as she left the kitchen. Someone called to her when she walked out of the movie room, she held her good arm up in a dismissive gesture. Something fell from her lips, drowned out by the water in her ears as she left the firehouse. 

It was still raining outside; she could see lightning in the distance. Clarke wasn’t sure how long she walked, didn’t even register in her head where she was going till, she got to their apartment. She didn’t have anything on her, having left her bag and coat still on Murphy’s table. By the time she walked up the stairs, clothes dripping with every step, shoes squeaking on the linoleum, the adrenaline had worn off. She was just happy that her keys were still in her back pocket as she fumbled with her left hand to open the door. Her hand was already swelling when she put an ice pack on it, the cut on her knuckles had stopped bleeding. She wasn’t sure when she had started crying, the tears in her eyes making it difficult to see what she was doing, they slid down her face, one after another as if taking turns. Some of the anger in her had subsided, the fire inside her simmering, on low, as if she had turned the oven down. And she wasn’t sure if she had finally eaten her anger, or if it had started eating her.

Clarke downed some pain meds, wrapped her wrist, and prayed that this would all just go away. 

The sun was already up by the time Clarke opened her eyes, something that hadn't happened at all in the time she had been living with Bellamy. She stayed in bed, straining to hear if anyone else was home. There was no singing, no noise at all besides her own breathing. She brought her wrist up into the light, taking her time as she took off the ace bandage. It was bruised, her fingers ached with the effort to make a fist. Probably a sprain. 

Clarke opened her door, thankful for once that she hadn't taken O’s room when she had the chance, no way sneaking out with a door that would squeak. Her bag and coat were laying by her door, cellphone placed gently on top. She was supposed to see her mom today, one last argument, one last talking to, before her board exam. But all Clarke wanted to do was sleep.  So she did. She closed the door on her things, leaving them in the hallway before crawling back in bed, downing a Benadryl, her eyes gently falling shut as the sun continued to make its way into her room. 

The second time she woke up the sun was no longer in her room, having moved past the window and settling somewhere above her. It was still light out, but with her phone still in the hallway, she had no way of knowing what time it was. Late enough that she had missed her appointment with her mom. She closed her eyes again. 

The third time she woke up, someone was gently tugging through her hair, she could feel a dent in the bed where they were sitting next to her.

“Clarke?” Octavia was sitting above her, concern written all over her face. “Damn, you crazy bitch, you ok?” 

She sat up, smile tugging on her lips, the room was a bit darker, evening light now. “What are you doing?” 

“Jesus  Christ killer, I was worried about you. You told us yesterday you had to go use the bathroom, and then you vanished.” 

Clarke nudged herself closer to the other girl, enjoying the feeling of another human. 

“Not to mention Bellamy was acting like he was on drugs, kept asking if you were ok. I swear I have never seen John Murphy that mad in my  _ life _ .” 

“Fuck. Did I put a hole in his kitchen?” 

“Yeah, we’re all calling you White Claw Kyle from now on by the way.” O nudged her, smirking and rolling her eyes. “He was mad at Bellamy though. Took us all like an hour to figure out what the fuck had happened. We all thought Bel had dented the wall.” 

“What happened?” 

“What do you mean. Shouldn’t I be asking you?”

“I mean like. After I left? What happened?” 

“Ok, you tell me the beginning, and I’ll tell you the end.” O held up her pinky finger, waiting for Clarke to take the bait. 

“Abridged version only. Bellamy said some dumb shit about my dad, I got mad, punched the wall, left.” 

“Wow, the details in this are just  _ riveting _ .” O laughed, moving herself so she was  lying next to the other girl, both their heads resting on the same pillow. “Ok.  Let's see, you walked into the living room, I asked you what was taking the snacks so goddamn long, you said you had to go to the bathroom, I said that doesn’t  affect the snacks, you didn’t react to my amazing humor and sarcasm.” Clarke rolled her eyes as the girl continued. “Anyway, like five minutes later Bellamy and Murphy come into the room, Murphy is like this close,” she held up her hand, thumb and pointer finger almost touching. “to busting out and knocking Bellamy out. I swear, Lincoln had to grab him.  Anyway, everyone’s shouting and wondering what the fuck is going on. Murphy kind of explains between trying to get Lincoln off him and swinging at Bel. All your  shit was still there so after shit died  down, we waited for you, looking around a bit before Murphy said you probably went home. Bel took your shit home with him, texted us that you were in bed and now here I am, the  dutiful doting friend to make sure you’re ok and ask if you want me to kick Bellamy in the nuts.” 

Clarke laughed at that, shoving the girl before wrapping her good arm around her.

“Seriously, I’m his sister, I can do that.” 

“Is he here?” 

“Yeah, making dinner.” 

Clarke nodded, sighing heavily into the other  girl's hair. 

“Do you want him to be doubled over in pain instead?” 

Clarke laughed but O started getting out of bed, wiggly past Clarke’s outreached hands, jumping towards the cracked bedroom door. 

“Bel! Clarke has something for you!” 

“Octavia!” The blonde jumped out of bed, trying to snatch at the other girl, she kept being one step ahead, leading them in a chase through the living room. 

“Hurry Bellamy!” They ran into the kitchen, Octavia seemingly sidestepping Bellamy at the last second, causing a very  fast-moving Clarke to run head on into him. 

“Fucking hell Octavia, what the fuck?” Other Blake wouldn’t look Clarke in the eyes, holding her around the shoulders as  both of them got their  baring's . 

“Did she hit you in the balls?” 

“No O, what the hell-” Clarke had stepped back, right as O stepped forward and decked him below the belt, causing the boy to lean over and groan, a  spatula that had been in his hand falling to the floor. 

“There. Don’t be a dick to my friend Bellamy.” O stepped past the boy, wrapping her arms around Clarke. “And you, don’t go breaking anything  million-dollar baby.” She kissed her on the cheek, rolling her eyes as other Blake let out a low moan. 

“Really O? I think you fucking broke my dick.” 

“Aww you poor baby. Aren’t you glad you live with a doctor?” She winked once at them before  disappearing out the front door. 

Other Blake didn’t make  any more noise, grabbing the spatula before going back to flipping the eggs he was making. They stood in silence, Clarke still rooted to the spot that she had stepped into, barely a foot away from Bellamy. 

He cleared his throat. “You want some food? I made enough for both of us.” 

Her mouth was watering as she looked at the frying pan in his hands, toast already stacked, bacon sitting and coaling next to him. It looked  really good . 

“Okay.” She almost didn’t recognize her own voice. 

The first part of the board exam was a multiple choice, eight-hour test, that took place in the testing center behind Arkadia Hospital. Clarke had decided to drive there, arriving an hour early. She clutched her scheduling permit as she waited for the staff to set her up. All her belongings in the car, multiple ‘good luck’ texts unanswered on her phone. She had even seen one from Other Blake before she had stuffed the phone into her glove box. She had used the bathroom twice while waiting, had paced in the lobby, redone her bandage a hundred times, when finally, someone came and got her. 

Bellamy was watching tv when Clarke finally arrived home nine hours later. She hadn’t seen him that morning, no music blasting her awake.

“How did it go?” He muted whatever it was he was watching. 

She kicked her shoes off, throwing her stuff by the door before answering. “We don’t get the results for like, three weeks.” 

He nodded, the silence skipping a beat before. “Well, how do you think you did?” 

“I don’t know.” She hung by the door, watching as he sat up. He looked  _ nervous _ . He opened his mouth to say something, eyes landing on Clarkes wrapped arm, his mouth snapped shut. 

Sighing once, she went and sat on the opposite side of the couch, pulling the blanket off the back. “What are you watching?” 

He looked at her for a bit before clearing his throat. “Uh, the Michael Jackson documentary.” 

“The good one or the bad one?” 

“There’s a good one?” 

She had to hide her smile with the blanket, curling up and making herself comfortable. 


	2. We feel it moving through our skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bodies lying in the sand  
> They're moving in the dark  
> It is so quick to let us in  
> We feel it moving through our skin  
> It's a sickness, infinite quickness, yeah  
> It is happening again..It is happening again...  
> \- Beach House, Silver Soul
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter deals with mentions of suicide, and eating disorders.  
> I'm updating a little sooner so the chapter is probably riddled with spelling mistakes. I've also added another chapter to this story because It felt a bit too rushed. Hope ya'll enjoy. Also I may have said before but I got a lot of inspiration from Grey's Anatomy. Season 6: Episode 9 was the inspo for this one.

The funny thing about death was, it never got easier. The times between it, the times when you forget about it, just become longer. The first-year anniversary of her father's death was rough. Clarke had cried the weeks leading up to it, shut down the day of, and cried the weeks after it. And then the world continued, there was less time to cry. The planet kept turning. The second anniversary was the same. Clarke cried, begged God to bring her daddy back, yet time continued. The third sneaking up on her, hitting her the day before, a tsunami of grief almost knocking her over. The fourth she almost forgot, woke up two weeks after the date, heart pounding in the middle of the night, an intense fear of forgetting something. She had looked at her phone, at the dates, wondering if she had missed something for school. When she realized what day it was, what month, that she had missed her own father’s death. She cried, woke up Octavia and slept in the other girl's bed. Kicked herself for not remembering  _ her own father’s death. _

That was the funny thing about death. She could think about her father a hundred times a day, she drank from his old coffee mug, had kept his Yale hoodie that she would sleep in sometimes, his photo greeted her every morning. He was everywhere in her life. But the world kept turning, the universe moved on, and some days, Clarke would forget that her father was really gone. 

Clarke forget what day it was when her USMLE results came. The envelope was thick, still sealed and waiting for her on the kitchen counter when she got home. She could hear the shower as she ditched her stuff by the door, throwing her bag on top of her shoes, her hands shaking as she reached for the letter. She sat down on the couch, shoving Bellamy’s laundry aside, her fingers playing with seal. She sat like that for the while, knowing the sound of the shower gave her some time. Maybe she could have Murphy open it for her, or Octavia,  _ or Bellamy _ . But truth be told, Clarke had no idea what she was hoping was inside. It was easy to not think about it when the results weren’t in her hands. 

The shower turned off and Clarke bounced up, walking through the head rush as she went to her room, her dad's hoodie hanging on her closet door. It didn’t smell like him anymore, but she could map it out in the dark. The hole on the back of the neck, rusty paint stain on the left sleeve, the letters old and fading even though Clarke  hand washed it. It made her feel closer to him, fabric slipping over her hair, sleeves hanging past her wrists. When she was younger, she would curl up in his hoodie, pretending that his arms were around her, pulling the collar up over her nose and imagining herself in his lap. It only seemed right to share the board results with him. 

Bellamy was walking out of the bathroom when she stepped out, drops of water still coming off his head, shirt sticking to him. “Hey, did you see the mail?” 

“Yeah I’m, uh, yeah I’m about to open it.” 

“It’s your results, right?” he turned the bathroom light off, walking with her as she went to the living room. 

“Yeah.” She picked up the envelope from the coffee table, taking up her same spot, tucking her feet under her. 

He stood by the couch for a second, shifting from foot to foot, clearing his throat before sitting down next to her. Waiting patiently for maybe a minute before, “Are you going to open it?” 

She pulled the hoodie over her knees, cocooning herself, resting the paper on her knees. “I have to.” 

They were silent for a bit before Bellamy turned the tv on, Clarke could feel his leg bouncing up and down next to her. He didn’t say anything after that, flipped through the channels before settling on Rugrats. She could feel his eyes on her though, the Rugrats theme playing. Her finger slipped under the seal, pulling till the envelope was undone. She held her breath as she pulled the paper out, opening the stack, her eyes skimming the first few lines till she saw the number, her score. 

“Well?” Bellamy was peering at her, eyes glancing between her and the papers in her hand, trying to read her face, her score.

Clarke cleared her throat, her eyes starting to tear up as she put the paper down next to her. Her throat felt like it was closing. “Hey what day is it?”

“Tuesday. The sixteenth. Why?” 

She pulled the hoodie above her nose, past her eyes, like a turtle going into itself. Resting her head on her knees as the hoodie provided a safety tent. 

“You okay Princess?” 

She didn’t bother responding, closing her eyes, focusing on whatever Tommy Pickle was saying on screen. She knew she probably looked crazy. Bellamy had never seen this side of her, really any side of her besides annoyed. Her face was in her thighs, breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth, Tommy Pickle laughing. Breath in, breath out, Tommy Pickle talking. Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out. She kept the routine, focusing on anything besides what was going on inside her. Bellamy had said a couple more things before succumbing to the silence. Breath in, breath out, the Rugrats theme was playing again. Breath in, breath out. 

_ “Clarke?”  _

She looked up from her notes, groaning and rubbing her eyes. 

_ “I'm invoking my parental rights. It’s time for bed.” _ her dad walked over to her, gently closing the books she had been staring at. 

“ _ Dad. I have like three more chapter notes I need to finish.”  _

_ “It’s summer school kiddo, I’m sure you can finish them tomorrow.” _

She didn’t argue, letting him guide her to her bed.  _ “Not being ahead is grounds for- _

_ “Automatic failure, right. But I’m not your mother, and it’s past one. You need sleep.” _ He tucked her in, brushing his hand through her hair. He suddenly looked older, smile looking more forced and aged with lines. _ “You know you don’t have to drive yourself into the ground for your mother's approval.”  _

_ “That’s not what I’m doing. You know how hard it is, I have to stay ahead and study twice as hard.”  _

_ “I guess you do.” _ He kept stroking her hair.  _ “You’re just as stubborn as your mother.” He was smiling. “I used to do the same thing for her when we were in collage. Except she would refuse to go to bed, I would have to trick her by starting long talks of the respiratory system. If I kept talking without letting her interrupt, eventually she would fall asleep.” _

_ “Dad, I know.”  _ She sighed through her nose, moving away from his hand.  _ “If you’re not going to let me study, I need to sleep.”  _

_ “Right. Just remember there's a life outside of medicine. You shut yourself off to study, shut yourself off to intern. Remember that life moves on outside of medicine, Clarke. This is a long and lonely road you’re on.”  _

She opened her eyes.  _ “What?” _ She laughed a bit, unsure what exactly he was talking about. _ “Dad I’ll have plenty of time to make friends and live a life later. I just need to get through college.” _

_ “Huh. Your mother had said the same thing. There’s a balance between work and life. She was never good at finding it.”  _ He swept her bangs aside.  _ “Don't let this consume you the way it has with her.” _

_ “Is this about Lexa? It wasn’t going to work anyway.” _ The girl sighed, not wanting to talk about this, again. _ “Mom didn’t make me break up with her, she was just right, like always.” _

He sighed, clearly knowing the direction the conversation was going.  _ “Alright. Listen to me, I really do sound like an old man. I just want you to be happy, Clarke. You are happy right?” _

_You are happy right?_

Jake Griffin had killed himself the next day, leaving Clarke with her mother, empty and alone. He hadn't even left a note, just enough tuition money to get Clarke through med school. The money, and the idea that she hadn't been enough. Not for her mother, not for her father. It had hit Clarke like nothing else in her life. Her mother’s frantic phone call, the first time Clarke had ever heard her mother sound like that, sound so scared.  _ ‘You need to come home right away, there was an accident.’ _ She had refused to tell the girl anything else. Clarke had called her father phone repeatedly, her heart beating faster and faster as she got closer to her family home. When she had pulled to the house, there were three police cars, an ambulance and fire truck. Nobody had their lights on, nobody had their sirens wailing. And Clarke knew. She could see her mother’s pale face talking to an officer, a few other police officers standing about, faces looking forlorn. She had tried to rush into the house, because it couldn’t be real, maybe he had a heart attack but was okay, maybe someone else had broken into their house, and her father was just at the store. She knew, but she refused to believe it. Two firefighters had blocked her path, she had yelled and tried to push past them, but they wouldn't budge. Her mother was trying to talk to her, but Clarke didn’t hear a word out of her mouth.  _ ‘Why are you lying? Why won’t you let me see?’ _ Even when they pulled out the stretcher, men still holding her back as it rolled across the sidewalk. The only sounds were the wheels on the pavement, Clarke screaming.  _ ‘Why are you lying?’ _

Today marked six years without her father. Breath in, breath out. It was silent in the living room minus the television. Bellamy’s leg still shaking next to her, the fast up and down almost matching the speed of her heart. Slowly, she peaked her head out of the hoodie, eyes readjusting to the light, squinting through her tears. Bellamy had changed the channel, Ocean's Eleven playing out on the screen. Clarke didn’t say anything as she stretched and got up, picking up the board results on her way to bed. Leaving other Blake behind on the couch. 

_ You are happy, right? _

O!!!

** CONGRATS CLARKE!!!!!!!!!!! **

Jas

**??? **

O!!!

** She passed her board exam!!! **

Jas

** Dope! You can prescribe me weed now right? **

O!!!

** Seriously dude. no. **

Murphyyy

** Alright Clarke! Party at mine this  ** ** friday ** **?  **

Monty

** Oh I’m always down 4 a little fiesta **

Monty

** Also way to go C! **

Other Blake

** Congratulations Princess. **

** Thanks guys! Friday sounds great xx **

Clarke turned her phone off and slipped it into her pocket. Her mother was late, as usual, leaving the girl sitting alone at a table,  _ as usual. _ Her water and untouched salad in front of her, her mother's steak already ordered and laying on the table. She picked at her nails for ten more minutes before Abigail swiftly sat herself down.

“Sorry for the delay, you know how busy it can get. I was assisting Kane on a Coronary  Revascularization , took a bit longer than I was expecting.” 

Clarke didn’t say anything, opting to take a sip of water instead.

“You look good. Glad to see you finally got rid of that freshmen fifteen.”

She _hmm’d_ in response, pulling out an envelope and setting it on the table. 

“You got the results?” Her mom reached across the table and grabbed the papers, quickly going through them, eyes scanning for the magic numbers. “You didn’t message me.” She said nothing of the score. 

“Yeah, I got it yesterday. I was seeing you today anyway so, no use really.” She twirled the fork in her hand, not mentioning the anniversary of Jake’s death, knowing it wouldn’t get her what she wanted. Not from Abigail.

“I would have appreciated a simple text.” 

Clarke said nothing to that, knowing there wasn’t a right answer, none that would please Abby, anyway. 

“Well, I’m surprised how high you scored. You’ll need to put your application for Griffin General right away. We already have a waiting list.” 

The girl watched her mother cut a piece of steak, red juice leaking out before she shoved a forkful into her mouth. “You want me to apply at Griffin?” 

“Of course! There’s no better teaching hospital, we have the best cardiac surgeon in the country, not to mention we’re the only trauma center in the state.” 

“What if I wanted to go somewhere else?” 

Abby sighed, putting her fork down. “Why would you? Anywhere else besides Mayo and Hopkins is doing a disservice to yourself. Not like you would have your own nameplate on the hospital at Mayo either. Besides, we settled on Griffin years ago Clarke.”

“It’s my life. Don’t I get to decide what I want to do?” She felt more brazen, her hands were shaking but she still grasped her own fork, her jaw ached from clenching it so hard.

“Oh? You not wanting to go to the best hospital in the state is you deciding what to do with your life? And that’s a good life choice, is it? Do you know how many Harvard applicants we get? How many we have to turn down? Clarke I am offering you the best possible choice here, help me out.”

“You want me to work in a hospital that has my name. Do you have any idea how hard it is to even be taken seriously by my peers by my-?”

Abby’s laugh cut her off. “Oh please, do not pull that shit with me. I have given you a legacy, all you have to do is sign some papers and it’s yours. This is a cutthroat industry; you know the odds of success, I am literally handing you the years, no decades, of work that I did.” She stared at her daughter as she pushed another bite into her mouth.

“What if I don’t want it?” 

“Then you’re as big of a failure and a fool as your father.” 

The week passed by like nothing, days spent filling out paperwork for hospitals, near but mostly far. Her fingers sore from writing so much. She threw the one for Griffin General in the trash. Clarke avoided Octavia, something made easier with the fact that the girl and Lincoln were on a mini vacation. She sent O smiling texts, responding in the high function happiness of her old self. Lying to O would have hurt, if her heart hadn’t blocked away her emotions, if her body wasn’t encased in anger. She avoided Bellamy, spending time at Murphy’s, even when he wasn’t there,  _ especially when he wasn’t there. _ She would park her car at the pond, windows rolled down as the summer breeze blew through, waiting out the hours till she knew the other Blake had gone to work. Being around people, took what little energy she had. Painting on a smile, forcing herself to respond the way she used to, coming up with excuses for why she looked so dead, why she looked so thin,  _ why she didn’t want their food _ . It was easier to just, not be around. And anyways, she was saving her energy for Friday’s party. 

It had started raining at the park, all the windows in her car rolled up except the drivers, a tiny sliver letting the cool air come through. Bellamy was definitely at work by this point, but she was too shaky to drive. She probably shouldn’t have driven out here in the first place, her hands shaking like she was eighty-years old with Parkinson's, vision blurring at the edges, head and heart pounding at the stoplights. She had made it though, parked by her favorite tree and settled in for a few hours. Unfortunately, after school ending, her test passed, everything quieting around her, inside her, Clarke was finally able to settle with what she was doing. Starving herself, Clarke was starving herself. It was easy to pass off when you’re too busy to think about it, when denying food is practical. She was busy, she didn’t have time to make meals or go grocery shopping. Everyone substituted meals for coffee during exams, it was basically a rite of passage. But after, when she still didn’t want to eat, when she had to physically force herself to chew but not swallow. She was forced to sit with what she was doing. She didn’t have exams to study for now, wasn’t rushing around on campus. Everything in her life had slowed down, almost to an excruciating point. The days felt like they doubled in time, but the moments in Clarke's life were rushing past her, her body on an almost unnatural high of absolutely nothing. She felt like she was flying. But Clarke wasn’t a bird, she couldn’t control her flight, and eventually she would crash back down to earth.

The car turned over twice before sputtering to life, she had to turn the headlights on before pulling into reverse. Maybe if she was lucky, she would pass out on the highway and-

Bellamy was sitting on the couch when she crashed through the door. Her shocked expression mirroring his. 

“You’re home.” She slowly put her stuff down.

“Uh yeah, I was supposed to go out with Echo, but we didn’t.” He looked away for a second, hands fiddling with the PS4 controller. “Why? You trying to avoid me?”

Clarke made her way to the kitchen, pulling her dads mug out of the sink, switching the coffee pot on. “No. Just, thought you worked tonight.” 

“Yeah normally . I  switched shifts with Miller for plans that didn’t work out anyway.” She could hear him sigh behind her. “What’s your excuse?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Why are you here? I’ve barely seen you at all this past week, even less than normal. No lives to save tonight?” 

The coffee always took too long, water dripping painfully slow through  the filter.  Her fingers traced the cracks in the  counter, still facing away from the other boy. “ You think  I’m off saving lives? I’ll be lucky to touch a scalpel  that’s being thrown away.” 

“When do you start your residency?”

“ Ah , I’m not sure.  It depends on who accepts me .  Probably in the fall, maybe sooner.” He didn’t say anything after that, she could hear him pressing the buttons on his controller , faint gunshots and screaming coming from the tv. Her coffee spluttered  a couple times, th e pot full enough that she could squeeze a whole cup out of it. 

Coffee in hand, Clarke’s goal was to go back to her room, but she found her feet dragging her to the couch. She debated for a second on where to sit, before sitting in her usual spot, even though that meant she was sitting right next to Bellamy. He kept playing, his leg starting to bounce up and down. 

She tried to watch what he was playing, but the scenes were too graphic, something almost nauseating about the way the people on screen screamed. Instead, she let her eyes drift, without turning her head, to watch Bellamy. He was sitting on the edge of the couch, hadn’t moved at all when Clarke had sat next to him. He flinched at something on the tv, face setting, fingers moving fast over the controller. 

“What are you playing?” 

“Resident Evil 7.” 

He didn’t say anything more and Clarke had to bite her tongue not to keep asking him. She hung on his words, craved the sentences coming out of his mouth. Bellamy was such a difficult person to get to, that when you finally did reach him, it was like being gifted something rare. There was the outside Bellamy, the one he gave to strangers, acquaintances. A simple face that gave the right emotions, closed itself off when he wanted it to, gave nothing away he didn’t want. And there was the one reserved for friends, family. She had seen both. From the beginning of Octavia introducing them. The way he would swing an arm around his sister, his gaze softer when she was around. When someone made him laugh it was like the world stopped especially for him. He was magnetic, to everyone. He was more popular in the group, had multiple girlfriends over the time Clarke had known him. He knew almost everyone at every bar they had gone, people coming up to him out of the blue, patting him on the back. Shouts of _‘Hey Bellamy!_ ’ across streets, across cafes. It was like she was the only one who got to be in neither group. She wasn’t his friend or his family. She wasn’t someone he didn’t know; someone he played a part for. In a way, she did feel like she got to see more of him than most. Just not his good parts. A part of Clarke had always been so hurt that he hadn’t let her in, had never shown her the same compassion and kindness that he did for his friends. She knew most of her harsh words came from that. If he wouldn’t let her in, why should she even bother, why shouldn’t she hurt him like he was hurting her. 

He didn’t know how much she longed for his closeness. Or how much it ate her that he willingly let everyone else  _ but her _ , in. 

Bellamy’s on-screen character died, causing the boy to huff and flop back onto the couch, his legs spreading enough to touch Clarke’s. He finally looked at her, eyes almost staring into her very being. He was smiling but it wasn’t genuine. The same smile he used when he called her ‘Princess’, the same one he used for her around other people, like he wasn’t sure what facial expression to give her. Like  _ she _ was the one that was confusing, not him. 

Clarke had taken a class in her third year of college where they got to work on live pigs. Each one had been stabbed, and it was their job to save the pigs lives. Her team had worked hard, even having to preform open heart surgery. They had to use heart paddles and try to resuscitate their pig, at one point, Clarke was instructed to put her hand around the heart and pump, try to make the muscle remember its functions, circulate and pump the blood. Their teacher had talked about how strong a heart is, but how, even in humans, emotional stress and sadness can take its toll, making a perfectly normal healthy heart stop functioning. Clarke had pumped the heart in steady even beats, but their pig still died. 

Her heart hurt, like her own hand was inside her chest, squeezing in abnormal beats.

Neither of them looked away, even though his game had restarted, the low tense music barely audible. Eventually she was the one who broke. “What?”

“I made fried rice if you want any, it’s in the fridge.” His face was still closed off, eye’s searching hers.

“Oh. Um. I ate before I came home. But thanks.” 

He didn’t say anything, eyes focused back on the television, moving his leg away from hers. It had started bouncing again. 

Clarke’s heart stuttered. 

On Friday, Bellamy had offered to drive her to Murphy's house. His hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning against the kitchen counter as Clarke had shuffled out of her own room. 

“Are you going right now?” 

“That was the plan, why?”

_ Why?  _ She was going to walk; help burn off the crackers she had for breakfast.  _ That’s why _ . That was her plan, because she thought Bellamy had already left. But here he was, offering her a ride, a challenge in his expression that made her uneasy. A wrench in her plan. 

“Can you give me a couple minutes?” She wouldn’t back down from that challenge.

He nodded as she retreated into her room, hastily throwing her sweatshirts off, stripping through the layers of fabric until she was just standing in her sports bra, a pair of Octavia's old jeans that Clarke had in her closet, _ the only jeans that fit her now. _ She switched her bra for a tight tank top, her boobs no longer there enough to warrant proper garments. None of her bras fit anymore anyway. She opted for a long sleeve shirt and her dad's hoodie, knowing that it swallowed her even more. She looked in the mirror. Her face,  _ her body _ , distorted in a way that looked like a copy of herself, looking back. Like it wasn’t really her. There was a strange comfort to that. She wiped the hair out of her eyes, smiling at her reflection. Her reflection smiled back.

When Clarke had been a teenager, her mother had scolded her when she had eaten a second piece of cake at Jake’s birthday party. _ ‘You’re at that stage now, where every calorie will count, you can’t let puberty be an excuse to get fat.’  _ Jake had shushed her, annoyed as he passed the plate to Clarke, telling her to help herself. That was the last time in her life she had been a B cup. 

_ Until now _ . Her mother would be proud, and even Clarke, if she was younger, _ if she _ _ hadn’t starved and cried and done jumping jacks in the middle of the night, _ would have been proud. Her old self would have flaunted it. Her mother had never been a size 4, dieting on and off throughout the girl's childhood. Clarke finally lost her baby fat, lost her puberty weight, lost her freshmen fifteen. 

Though she had no intention of showing it off, it must have showed. Clarke no longer putting her hair up, her cheek bones sticking out too much. She layered as much as she could, a constant state of cold in the Summer heat, a need to hide all her loss. Murphy had looked at her weirdly a couple times, even O commenting on how much weight she had lost. ‘ _ That’s what happens when you go to med school. Don’t worry, it’ll all come back now.’ _ She had laughed, making sure the lie was cemented in safety, believable,  _ nothing to worry about. _ Shoving a bite of fries in her mouth at the time, sealing her words. And they had smiled, because of course, all med students are stressed, don’t eat, end up losing a few pounds. Clarke was Clarke, and that was the end of the discussion. It was _ because _ Clarke was Clarke, that no one could see any other reason for her weight loss. 

Bellamy looked like he hadn’t moved, still leaning in the kitchen, eyes looking bored. She shoved her door closed, slipping her phone into Octavia’s pants. “Okay, I’m ready.” 

She could feel the life return to her stepping into Murphy’s place. Loud music going, friends of friends of friends pulling up, lounging around every corner of the house. 

“My baby!” Octavia was in the living room when Clarke and Bellamy walked in. She threw her arms around the other girl, almost knocking her down as she pulled them close together. “You’re a doctor!”

Clarke giggled into the girl's sweaty neck. “Not quite, but thanks.” 

Bellamy walked by them, patting O’s head as he made his way to the kitchen. He had been silent the whole way over. Clarke had refused to break first, refused to say anything either. So they had driven in silence. 

“How many people did you guys invite? Jesus.” She had only recognized a handful of people from arrival. Not seeing any of the original gang besides Octavia. 

“Well, you’re not the only one with thing’s to celebrate.”

“As if anyone needs a reason to drink.” 

“That too.” Octavia had held up her cup in a cheers, sipping whatever alcohol was in it. “I’m sure if you wonder around, you’ll see someone. I know Monty is here. Somewhere. I think.” 

Lincoln appeared beside her, tugging the girl to his chest, smiling at Clarke over her the top of the girl's head. “Congrats on passing the board Clarke!” 

“Thanks.” The excitement she had first felt when entering the house seemed to have dwindled down to nothing, a spark blowing out. She suddenly felt too tired, too annoyed, too hungry. “Where’s the booze?”

O laughed. “There’s some at the bar, most of its outside.” 

She nodded. “Find you later, O?” 

“You better!” She gave her another hug, kissing her cheek before waving and going off with Lincoln. 

She found the table outside, stacks of vodka, tequila, and even some whisky, littered with tiny shot glasses, red cups almost all gone. She grabbed the Bacardi, bringing it up and taking a whiff, the smell alone making her cough, already wanting to vomit.

“There’s my doctor!” Murphy approached the table, smiling as he handed her a cup of unknown substance. When she raised her eyebrow he just laughed. “It’s heavily mixed, I swear.” 

She brought it up to her nose, alcohol mixed with fruit greeting her. Finding it to be strawberry as she took a sip. It  _ was _ heavily mixed, almost tasting like a sonic slushy.

“So? Thoughts?” He grabbed one of the discarded cups on the table, the bottle of Bacardi Clarke had put down, pouring his own.

“Why are there so many people?” 

“I meant on the drink, but that works too, I guess.” 

“I didn’t even know you knew this many people. Bellamy had to park a street away.” 

“It wasn’t all me! Jasper and Monty practically invited everyone from their dorm.” He took a sip, face contorting. “And hey! I know plenty of people.”

She smiled, feeling a bit better. “ Plenty?  Name one.” 

He opened his mouth.

“Outside our friend group.”

Promptly shutting his mouth, giving her an annoyed look that last all but three seconds. “You got me there. Who really cares though, Jasper and Monty told everyone to BYOB, and it’s thanks to that, that I will be blackout before the night is over.” 

Clarke had to laugh, bringing her cup up to clink it against his. “I’ll drink to that.”

One by one, Clarke found all her friends milling about the house. As the night wore on, her smile became easier, interactions more fun. She even said hi to Finn Collins, one of the few people from school she recognized. She hadn’t seen Bellamy since they had arrived, worrying how she was going to stumble home. She drank more and forgot she needed to worry. 

Eventually as the night continued into early day, less and less people occupying the house, the original gang found themselves sitting in Murphy’s backyard. Clarke was sitting on Octavia’s lap, the other girls' arms protectively around her waist. She was probably grounding O, more than the other way around. The dark hair girl drunker than almost anyone else in the group. 

Jasper was telling a story that had most of them in hysterics. Clarke was  pleasantly buzzed but was okay with the act of faking  drunkenness, enjoying the closeness of everyone. Sober Clarke didn’t normally sit on  people's laps.  Bellamy had  reappeared at the end of the night, plopping himself next to Octavia and Miller, drink in his hand. 

“ Let's play truth or dare!” There was a collection of groans and cheering, someone grabbed a half drank whisky bottle, placing it in the  middle.Murphy giving it a twist that almost sent it flying out of their circle. The game started. She slipped  off O’s lap, bumping into other Blake, forcing him to move over so she could squeeze between the siblings. 

The game went around the circle, bouncing between people. Clarke was sitting at an easy angle, head resting on Octavia’s shoulder, giving quick looks at the older Blake as the game continued.  Finally, someone called her name, her eye’s taring away from him, not quick enough as he grinned back at her. She felt her face heat up.

“What?” 

“Truth or dare.” It was Monty, one had on the bottle, smiling at her.

“Ugh. Truth.” 

“Your biggest crush right now.”

Octavia moaned beside her. “God dude, that’s such a high school question. What are we?  Twelve-year  old's in a movie?” 

He pouted. “Fine, you can only have sex with one person in this room or you die, who would it be?” 

O nodded, reaching a wobbly hand past Clarke’s  vision to give the boy a high five. 

Clarke looked around, begging her eyes to focus and see who was there. Jasper, Monty, Murphy, Octavia, Lincoln, Bellamy, Miller, Finn, Jasper and Monty’s friend Harper, and a girl she though  whose name was  Niylah , but she wouldn’t bet her life on it. “Um.  Bellamy, I guess.” 

Murphy snorted. “I want the  logistics of the answer.”

“Well tough shit.”

There was a chorus of suggestive remarks, mostly from Jasper and  Octavia, who mocked a shocked expression, pushing Clarke a bit. Her hand landed on Bellamy’s leg for support. She removed it quickly.

“That’s so cute, Princess.”  Finally, he  addressed her, locking eyes before smirking and looking away. 

“I would be dying dude. You’re telling me you would rather I die?” The group had gone a bit silent, watching their exchange. 

He raised his hands in surrender. “I never said anything. It’s your turn by the way.” 

She looked away, pulling herself up so she could reach for the bottle, giving it a hearty spin before sitting back down, her leg pressed against Bellamy’s. She didn’t move.

The bottle landed on Monty, who looked slightly annoyed at having to go again. “Hit me with a dare, Griffin.”

“God really? My head is too full to think of anything good.” She groaned, going still as Bellamy leaned slightly into her, his mouth ghosting her ear, hot breath rolling over her. She wanted to shiver.

“Dare him to give Miller a lap dance.” 

She pulled away from him, catching his eyes. 

“Just, trust me.”

“Okay, ugh Monty, I dare you to give Miller a lap dance.” 

The boy’s cheeks flushed, mouth slightly falling open. “What?” 

She shrugged. “You forced me to have sex with Bellamy, this is your punishment.” 

Octavia let out a shrike. “Oh god, not good words there Clarke.” 

Bellamy just rolled his eyes, still not moving from his position next to the blonde, almost closer if that was possible, the whole side of his arm pressing against hers. 

“Fine. But I will remember this.” Someone put on Joji, Monty getting into the feeling before  approaching his recipient. Miller hadn’t said a word this entire time, hand firmly grasping his drink, face completely  neutral . The dance was short lived, Monty kept falling into Millers lap, laughing as he tried his best but  clearly giving up and going for the goofy  routine instead. To his credit, Miller didn’t look like he minded at all. 

The game continued bouncing around, Clarke refusing to look at the boy next to her, but could feel his body, almost painfully aware how close their hands were, their knees, her shoe resting on his jeans. It had only been a couple rounds when the bottle landed on her again, the arm behind the spin being Murphy’s, who looked way to evil for her to  choose dare. 

“Truth.” 

“Aww baby. Come on, don’t you trust me?” He changed his face, lips pouting, batting his eyes.

“No.”

“I knew you were too smart for your own good.” He laughed, biting his lip while he thought. “Okay, weirdest sexual  escapade you ever had .”

It was her turn to laugh, his question tamer than what she was expecting. “Getting down and freaky with my girlfriend from  high school , we were in the backseat of my car and it was dark outside, we were parked so we thought it would be fine but suddenly cops pull up like all around us. Seriously there was like three cop cars. We got out looking like we had been doing things,” someone wolf  whistled , she rolled her eyes. “we had to pretend we were having a picnic in the backseat of my car.”

“Did you get in trouble.”

“No, they told us that my car matched a description of someone else in the area that was stealing stuff and they thought it was me. We left right after that.” 

“ So you’re into public sex?” Murphy wiggled his eyebrows.

“No? I-what? That’s what you got from the story? And anyway, your turn is over.” She grabbed the bottle and spun it. The end came to a slow stop next to her, the top of the bottle pointing at  other Blake. “Truth or dare Bellamy?” 

He held her gaze. “Truth.”

Octavia threw her hands in the air. “You guys are so fucking boring I swear.” 

Clarke ignored her, still looking at him as she mulled over questions in her head. She landed on one, almost feeling to sober as she looked away from him. “Why do you hate me?” 

The group was silent. 

“What?” 

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, his expression read confusion. “Why do you hate me so much? Like what did I do to you?” 

“You think I hate you?”

“Don’t you? You can’t stand anything I do. I breath and it offends  you, - ”

“That’s not true-”

“and I’ve never told you anything about myself. You just assume everything. What have I done that makes you hate me so much? Do I remind you of  Hitler ? Did I sneeze in your space one time? Did I kick your puppy in another life? What is it?” 

He reached for the bottle, giving it a quick spin, eyes meeting hers once more. “I don’t hate you.” 

But he pulled away, a line between them where nothing touched. 

Clarke's skin felt cold.


	3. And I would die or stay for you right now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And every time I think the plan is aligning  
> You still so close yet so far  
> -Labrinth, Still Don't Know my Name. 
> 
> TW Mentions of Eating disorder.  
> Sorry it took forever to upload, I know this is short but I've added yet another chapter, I just feel that the story flows better this way. Thanks for being patient with me xx (ALSO, if anyone knows how to freaking make it so theres no weird gaps in the story, like randomly between sentences let me know PLEASE. I copy and paste it so for the most part it looks fine, but then I post and theres whack ass gaps in places and it bugs the shit out of me. anyway holla at ur girl if you know how to fix this lol)

This time, when Clarke left the party with Bellamy, she could walk herself. Thing’s had mostly ended, a few people crashing around Murphy's place, a drunk Octavia being dragged away by a sober boyfriend. Everyone else already left, no sign of Murphy as they walked outside. Bellamy hadn’t said much after the game, once again closing himself off to her. He’d skipped out after his turn had ended, finding her an hour later to say he was leaving if she wanted to come with. 

She did, so she went. 

He turned the radio on when they got in the car, something to cut through the overwhelming  noiselessness of the ride. She laid her head on the window, sighing deeply as the song ended, another taking  its place. 

“So. You would have sex with me, huh?” He addressed her, a smile playing at his lips.

Clarke moved away from the window, turning so she could look at his outline in the flashing lights of the streetlamps. “I wouldn’t have sex with anyone that hates me."

_ “I don’t hate you, _ why do you think I do?” 

She pursed her lips, debating the harm of being honest. The car slowed down, stopping at a light, giving the boy enough time to make eye contact. “You don’t treat me like everyone else.” 

“What? What does that even mean?”

“I see how you act with everyone else. Your friends, and your family.” She shrugged, turning back to gaze out the window as the car accelerated. “I don’t fit in any of those categories. Plus, it feels like you single me out a lot because I have a wealthy mom.” 

He heaved a sigh, the truck turning into the parking lot of their building, coming to a stop and turning off. Neither of them made a move to get out, Bellamy’s hands lingering on the keys. 

“You’re not Octavia.” He looked like he was struggling for words.

“No. I’m not.” 

“And you’re not exactly my friend. And I don’t want to put you in that  category .” 

She snorted. “Gee thanks, I feel so much better. Keep talking about how you don’t hate me, yeah?” 

“Yeah no, let me finish.” He leaned back in his seat, turning his head out the window. Clarkes eye’s stayed trained on him. “You’re not Octavia, and you’re not Miller. And it’s hard having to put you into a category. Because I don’t want to see you as my sister, and I don’t want to see you the way I see Miller.” He was silent for a beat, fingers still playing with the keys. “And I’m sorry I was shitty when we first met, I was going through some stuff and I projected on you. It wasn’t your fault and it was unfair of me. And I kept doing it. And it got hard to not do it because it was easier being a dick then-.” he trailed off. “And that was the only category I could fit you into. You said something and I got annoyed or I said something and annoyed you. That’s the best way I can explain it.”

She sat with his words, chewing them in her mind, trying to digest exactly what he was saying. “So what category am I in?” 

He finally looked over, smiling as he opened his door. “Clarke.” He hopped out of the truck and shut his door. 

She was okay with Category Clarke. 

Clarke needed a job, needed an income, needed something to do. _ Since she hadn’t sent her applications for the hospitals _ . Ignoring phone calls and messages left by Board of Directors, Chief of surgeons,  _ her mother. _ Something made easier with the fact that her phone had been turned off that morning.  _ Probably her mother's doing _ . She felt unmotivated and lost, having spent her entire life to that point relying on medicine and the idea that eventually, she would become a doctor. A failure at twenty-three with years of college behind her.  _ Her mother would be so proud.  _

As the days passed and she still hadn’t sent anything out, her prospect of becoming what her mother wanted, _ father had wanted _ , slowly going down the drain. No response was a response, and she was burning her bridges fast. 

The irony of applying as a waitress at Polis was not lost on Clarke. The smells of food all around her as she made her way through the swanky restaurant. She had gotten the job, her first job. It wasn't her first choice, but it was the easiest. Besides, they had  actually called her in to interview. Hardly any training needed to carter food back and forth without touching it, put on a fake smile and play nice. She was doing that now for free. She hadn’t told anyone about the job, her first shift squeezed between seeing Octavia and Murphy, shoving her apron out of sight in the car before going home. 

Bellamy was there when she arrived, something she was getting more and more used to. “Hey. So, your mom stopped by while you were out.” He stood up from the couch, pointing to a box sitting in the corner of the room. “She. Dropped some of your stuff off.” 

Clarke kicked at the box, making sure a horde of snakes wouldn’t rush her. “Did she say anything?” 

“Nothing nice.”

“Sounds like Abigail.” She squatted down, pulling the first flap of the box back, a pile of her old clothes greeted her, a mismatch of things left in haste, nothing that would probably even fit her. Her birth certificate and high school diploma crammed into the bottom.

Bellamy was looking over her shoulder at the stuff. “Is she, breaking up with you?” She could tell he meant it as a joke. But he was right.

There was a slip of paper on top, when Clarke unfolded it her mother's quickly scribbled writing staring back at her  _ ‘I’m done.’ _ “Yeah. I think she is.” She put the paper aside, rummaging through the box. Her toothbrush clattering at the bottom, a few makeup bottles. It was all the stuff she’d left at her mother's house, mostly by accident. Some left there just  in case she stayed over and forgot something. She took out the diploma and her birth certificate, glancing at the stuff before closing it back up.

“What are you going to do with the rest?” 

She leaned down and picked up the box. It wasn’t very heavy. “Throw it away.” 

Bellamy didn’t say anything, just followed her to the door before taking the box from her as she led the way to their trash bin. 

Her mother had reduced her to a box. A box of things she didn’t even use, hardly even need. She held the lid up as he threw the box inside, a soft thump as it landed on other trash bags. All of it in the trash, like she meant nothing anymore.  _ Nothing to her mother _ . She knew that was what Abigail had wanted too. She was cut off, didn’t have medicine anymore, no longer had her father,  _ didn’t have her mother. _ Abby wanted her to feel empty and desperate and alone. But as she walked back up the stairs, Bellamy beside her the whole way, she felt almost the exact opposite. 

He closed the door as she took a seat on the couch, curling into herself. All the emotions inside her, should have canceled each other out. But instead she was left in a jumble of relief and confusion and loss and dread. She felt the couch dip as he took a seat right next to her, peaking out briefly, seeing his eyes on the tv. He was beautiful. Usually she was too busy hating him, too busy exploiting his weak spots.  _ But he was beautiful _ . Her heart ached suddenly, for reasons outside of her mother. 

Clarke had been in one relationship all her life. Lexa, a beautiful brown-haired girl with striking eyes. They had grown up together, seeing each other on and off at family events, remaining close but not  _ quite friends _ . Lexa had transferred to Clarke’s high school her last two years, they teamed up almost out of obligation. But the girl had grown on Clarke, finding they had a lot in common, same taste in music, watched the same shows. She hadn’t even realized she had fallen in love until the other girl had kissed her. They were together when they graduated, staying together three years. Even when Lexa went away to college another state over. It wasn’t until things had become more difficult, when every time Clarke called, she called crying, _ when her mother told her Lexa was a distraction and making Clarke a worse person, that they were two kids in high school, it wouldn’t last forever _ , that they broke things off. And Clarke didn’t even cry, knowing the loss in the end, was her fault, that she could have fought it but didn’t. And maybe her mother was right, maybe Lexa wasn’t the right one for her. But she was someone. She understood parts of Clarke that no one else did, saw in her what Clarke only wished she could see. She was someone. And when they broke up, Clarke had treated her like no one. Lexa never talked to her after that. And Clarke never dated anyone else.

What she would give, to have an ounce of the relationship Bellamy had with those around him. How he seemed to know when Octavia was feeling bad, would hug her without needing to be asked. The way he held Echo’s hand, even when they were both immersed in two different conversations. To have that closeness. It was such a longing aching pit in her stomach, a consistent need. That's’ why she craved to be touched, craved that intimacy and closeness with everyone around her. Knowing she could only get in spurts, never the real thing. Murphy was great. And the way Octavia would remember what she liked, what she needed, hugging her more often, scooting closer to her. It was nice.  _ But it wasn’t the connection she longed for.  _

Bellamy seemed to notice her staring, glancing sideways at her, one lip turning up. “What?” 

She kept eye contact as she slowly uncurled, scooting over so she was pressed against him, lifting his arm for him and placing it around her. Closing her eyes as a tear slipped out.

“You okay?” 

She nodded, even though another tear escaped. 

“Is this about your mom? I’m sure she’s just mad, she’ll come around.” 

“You know, you don’t actually have to hug me if you don’t want.”

“That’s not what I was- no that’s. I was just wondering.” His arm tightened around her. “Seriously princess, are you okay? Because you haven’t been acting like yourself, and you look like you’re not eating and-”

She lurched up, leaning away from him. “I’m fucking stressed dude. I’m sorry I’m not happy all the time, but it’s literally just school shit, once all of this-”

“You’re lying. School’s ended and you’re still walking around like you don’t live here. You don’t have to be gone when I’m here you know. And I never see you eat; you look like you’re slowly fading away.” She opened her mouth, but he kept going. “Don’t even try lying on that one. I’m the only one buying groceries and for the first time in my life someone isn’t eating my cereal and leaving the bowl in the sink.” 

She scooted father away from him, instantly missing his arm around her, the way his body radiated heat like a furnace. “I’m just stressed.” They both knew the line was fake, she didn’t even try to smile through it. 

“About?”

“ _ Everything _ . Everything, Bellamy.” She blinked slowly as another tear dribbled out of her eye, making a path down her face and dropping from her chin.

He edged closer, slowly like he didn’t want to scare her. “Clarke, I think you need to get help. Something is  clearly wrong. You can’t-”

“I’ll be okay. I’m fine. It’ll fix itself. I’m just going through a rough time.” She looked away from him, trying not to blink as the drops turned into a stream on her face, cringing at her own corny line. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” 

He pulled her back in, both arms wrapping around her frame, he pulled  her, so she was almost halfway on his lap, face hiding in his shirt as she kept repeating her words. He didn’t say anything, just stroked her hair.  _ ‘I’m fine’ _ like a mantra on repeat spilling from her mouth. 

Another week or so passed; Clarke felt almost euphoric, like she was floating instead of walking. She thought she would have been tired from the lack of food, but if anything, she felt more energetic than ever. She never thought she would be so happy to be around food that she couldn’t eat, but there was a pleasant rhythm to serving, an aura of superiority around not eating what she served. She walked around her section, taking orders, scribbling barely legible words, walked back and forth from the kitchen, poured drinks and set out fancy dishes of salad and noodles and fish. She couldn’t eat anything, could only stare and drool and walk back and forth. She felt like the best possible version of herself. 

Until Bellamy and Echo were seated in her section. And everyone else was too busy to switch with her.

He didn’t look up as she  approached , a larger than life smile on her face. “Hey  guys can I get you started with something to drink?” 

“Clarke! I didn’t know you worked here.” Echo was beaming, Bellamy finally jerking his head up and staring at the blonde.

“I  heard hard labor builds character. Rich people need to build character too.” She smiled at the boy, letting him know she wasn’t serious with the jab. 

Serving someone she knew wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, the  bustling of the evening crowd quickly taking over any thoughts she had. She gave them their food and left them alone. But  every time she looked up, looked around at her tables, she would catch Bellamy’s eyes. Her heart stuttering as she quickly looked away. The dinner rush slowed down, but they were still there. The seventh time she approached their table, Echo was gone, Bellamy messing with his phone when she walked up. 

“Did you guy’s need anything else?”

“Oh no. We’re good. Thanks.” 

She gave a nod, stepping back to leave.

“What time does your shift end?”

She glanced at the large clock on the wall. “In about an hour.” 

“Do you want a ride home?” 

“You don’t have to wait for me.” 

“It’s fine. Text me when you’re done?” He stood up, stretching and cracking his back, Clarke trying not to stare too long. 

“Okay.”

“Okay.” he smiled at her for a second before walking away. She could see the back of his head as he pushed the front doors open. 

So, she did. Her shift ending about twenty minutes early, sending the other Blake a text informing him. She smelled like butter and  noodles; her apron stuffed in her hoodie as she made her way through the parking lot to where he’d told her he’d parked. 

“You didn’t have to wait. I was going to take the bus.” She slammed the door closed.

“It’s fine.” He shrugged. “I’m not doing anything.” 

They drove in silence for a while, Clarke forced to clear her throat as a lump rose. “So how was your date with Echo?” 

He glanced at her. “Oh. Ugh, not a date. We’re  actually not together. Anymore. Just friends now.” 

“Oh.” Her fingers strummed on the windowsill. “How come you never said anything?”

“How come you never said you worked at Polis?” 

She cracked a smile, biting her lip and forcing her face back to neutral. She waited a beat, knowing he wouldn’t give her anything unless she did too. “I know my dad’s money will run out eventually. I feel bad wasting it and not even doing anything.  So I got a job at Polis.” She left out the part that she needed to do something since she quit medicine. Needed to do something so she wouldn’t stuff her face all day. He didn’t need to know that part. 

He nodded, still silent as they made three more turns, the truck finally on the highway. “Echo and I never really dated, everyone kind of assumed. She needed someone, and I needed someone.” His shoulders went up, then down. “We kind of used  each other , but it’s okay, she’s a good friend.” 

“She gets to be your friend, just like that.” It was unfair, she knew it. 

“You want to be my  one-night stand friend too?” 

“I have to sleep with you for you to be my friend?” 

She could see him smiling as the truck sped up, passed someone, got into the right lane. “I never slept with Miller.”

“ So I have to sleep with you or have known you since birth?” 

“You don’t have to do either. You’re category Clarke. I think that’s better than being my friend.”

“Being in category Clarke. Does that mean you like me?”

“ Of course I do.” He didn’t wait before responding. His  immediate answer proving to Clarke that he was telling the truth. “You’re a good person underneath all your shitty jokes and bad movie recommendations.” 

“Inception is not a bad movie!” 

“It is when you recommend it a billion times and force us to watch it on your birthday every year.”

They arrived home quickly after that, Bellamy walking behind her all the way up the stairs. Her legs felt like jelly when they got to their apartment. She changed into her pajamas quickly, throwing all her clothes on the floor as she sidestepped her laundry to the door. 

Bellamy sitting on the couch, laptop on his knees,  startled and nearly dropping his mug when she hurled over the seat of the couch landing next to him. 

“Want to watch a movie?”

He eyed her up and down,  suspicion on his face. “It’s not Inception is it?” 

She whacked him with a pillow lightly, laughing as he held his tea  out, so it didn’t spill on his lap. She reached past him for the remotes, turning the tv on and searching for  Leonardo Dicaprio.

Four months passed this way. Clarke worked, hung out with Octavia and Murphy, and even Monty and Jasper occasionally. She passed up food, ignored the weird looks she got, kept losing more weight, kept getting rides from Bellamy. Work was difficult, but not in an emotional way. Often when other Blake came to pick her up, she was more than thankful, dead tired after being on her feet for seven hours, her skin almost coated in  grease , the smells of food stuck to every part of her. 

The biggest change in her life wasn’t even ‘losing’ her mother. It was the way Bellamy now treated her. He still joked, still threw comments that made her roll her eyes. But it wasn’t rude, wasn’t cut in underlying annoyance or bitterness. He almost acted like her friend. _ He did. _ He just wouldn’t say it. She was still _ category Clarke. _ But that was okay, because that meant when she felt her worst, on days when she thought she was going to implode on herself, she could hug Bellamy. And he never asked why. She could sit herself next to him and not say a word, and he accepted it. He still tried to feed her, insisted on driving her places, made fun of the way she pronounced certain words and her love for Christopher Nolan and Oceans 11. But it felt like he cared.

“ _ Dude it’s literally hailing, why  _ _ won't _ _ you just drive? You have a car for  _ _ Christ's _ _ sake. Use it. _ ” 

“ _ Walking is good for the soul, Blake. _ ” She would roll her eyes, making for the door.

“ _ Oh my god. Just wait. _ ” and he would always take her. Huffing and sighing in the car so much that she would get annoyed.

_ “If it bothers you so much, why do you insist on driving me? _ ”

“ _ Okay, tell my why you insist on walking everywhere and I’ll tell you why I have to drive you. _ ”

She hadn’t said anything, knowing he would call bullshit on her lies. Walking  _ was _ good for her. But it was a way for her to not have to drive,  _ not risk passing out _ . She had noticed her hands shaking more and more, her head getting fuzzy. She had already  passed out twice. She wasn’t sure how safe she was behind the wheel. But she didn't’ say any of that, and he would just sigh and continue to drive her. 

He had stopped pushing her to  drive her own car and in return she had stopped arguing when he insisted on taking her. She still walked and took the bus, on days his work schedule  interfered with hers. Bellamy always trying to either drop her off or pick her up. It was nice not having to be alone all the time. 

She felt worse more often now. Her legs shaking as she forced herself up and down stairs, heart stuttering when she rushed through Polis with plates stacked high.  _ Other people were  _ _ noticing _ _ too.  _

They had been at Octavia and Lincoln’s place, everyone there, a miracle. Jasper had spilled beer on Clarke’s top, causing the two girls to go upstairs so she could borrow something from the other girl. 

No sooner had she slipped the top over her head than O was speaking.

“I can’t remember the last time a shirt of mine fit you, let alone was too big.” 

“I know, school stress plus now I’m running around Polis all the time. I should have three plates of  potatoes .” She was joking, trying to ease the worry of her friend’s face. 

“Are you sure you’re not sick? You look  really small . I mean, I think my tits are bigger than yours.” The other girl forced a rough laugh.

Clarke laughed. “I’m not sick, I just need to catch up more than I thought I guess.” O still looked worried, staring at the other girl's frame in a way that made Clarke want to cover up. “Octavia, I’m fine. You can spoon feed me gravy if it makes you feel better.” 

She still looked worried but smiled, giving the blonde a side hug as they walked down the stairs to join the rest of the party. And later, when Clarke finished everything on her plate, forcing every bite down her throat,  _ both Blakes looked more at ease.  _

She left alone that night, Bellamy making no move to leave his sisters.  And that was fine, she was okay with walking home, slipping out when no one noticed. She used to feel so sneaky when she did it as a kid, neither parent noticing her  absence. L exa never noticing either, having to come find Clarke in some hallway, hidden away. And she was fine with that. But lately, not having anyone see her,  _ hurt _ . Like they would all go on without her, and she was left on the outside. Another painful reminder that no matter how much she had become a part of them, she would always be the odd one out, the last to enter the group, the last to be filled in. No matter how close she had gotten to Murphy or Octavia, how much she loved Jasper and Monty, how much she had come to almost relying on Bellamy, _ she would always be alone _ . And nothing made her feel more like it, then when she would watch them go on without her.

It wasn’t fair and she knew it. Clarke didn’t have a claim over any of them, no matter how close she was. They  were allowed to have other friends, allowed to function when she wasn’t there. But being left out, knowing there would be group texts she didn’t understand, jokes she would miss, maybe even plans she wouldn’t get invited to, it sucked. She pushed through as long as she could, the burgers sitting in her stomach painfully. She pushed and forced herself to socialize and laugh and smile. And Clarke had even had fun, laughing so many times throughout the night that she was sure she would go home feeling okay.  _ But she didn’t _ . Because as soon as she backed out and closed the apartment door, she felt empty and sad. Tears so close to her eyes that if her eyelashes bent against her  will; they would be forced to stream down. She walked fast, focusing on the burn in her throat, the strain of her legs. Ignored the tears on her cheek. It wasn’t fair, and she had no reason to,  _ but Clarke felt so fucking alone.  _

Her phone went off as soon as she walked into the apartment. Dropping her bag by the door where Bellamy hated it, usually tripping over it.

Other Blake

** You better have taken an Uber or something >:(  **

She typed her response fast, fingers shaking from the cold, having to backspace multiple times before her sentence was  coherent . Moving her bag after she hit send.

** I ** ** needed the fresh air.  ** ** So ** ** kind of you to worry, I just got home. **

She ignored when her phone went off again, saving his text till she was safe in bed with all the lights off. Her stomach was turning painfully, but for once she didn’t care, opening her phone to see what he said.

Other Blake

** You’re killing me Princess. I’ll be home in an hour. You should have told  ** ** me; ** ** I would have gone with  ** ** you... **

Her skin felt like it took a breath, her chest rising and falling with a big gulp of air, letting someone else in, having someone see her.  _ Having him see her _ . And suddenly she wasn’t so alone anymore. She typed a quick response before turning her phone off, plugging it in and relaxing into the blankets.

** You’re cute when you worry. See you tomorrow. **

Clarke had been starving all day,  _ six _ __ _ months. _ Everything on the Polis menu looked  appetizing, all the plates she brought out made her mouth water, like a sinkhole had opened inside her demanding something,  _ anything. _ Her favorite cook on staff, a tall man who always wore funny colored chef’s hats, even though they didn’t have to,  noticed her deminer. Asking if she was okay, her hands reaching for the  entrees , shaking so hard the plate clattered against the counter a couple times before she pulled it away. She smiled, lied through her teeth and walked back into the dining room. The plates burning her hands the entire way to her table.

She had waited outside Polis for twenty minutes. It was freezing, even by November standards, already a sure sign that the winter would be worse. She had layered as much as she could, but still couldn’t keep from shivering. Snow had started  falling , the beautiful glow of the city lights in the  clouds capturing her. Bellamy must have forgotten. She thought about calling an Uber, the idea of trudging through the cold, the snow, for an hour to get home, wasn’t appealing  at the moment . But the thought of going back inside, surrounded by the  sights and smells of food, was almost worse. She zipped her coat, put her earphones in, and started walking north. Maybe if she  walked, she would forget the hunger inside her, the almost  unbearable want. She pictured a hamburger in her hands, big and hot with extra cheese  tomatoes and lettuce, rings of onion, pretended to take a bite, trying to  recall all the flavors. The songs blurred together, she crossed streets and waited at traffic lights, all the while eating her pretend food. It worked, her stomach  miraculously felt full, almost as if she'd truly eaten. 

Entering the apartment quietly, she saw that Bellamy was asleep on the couch, passed out with a book in his hands, the tv still playing. She tiptoed past him, didn’t want to wake him, didn’t want to make him feel bad. She was so cold, her fingers felt like they would fall off, her ears ached.  _ She was so cold. _ She placed her bag outside the bathroom door, shed her coat, still shivering as she let the door shut. She removed enough layers to get her father's sweatshirt off, turning the bath as hot as it would go before slipping in, leggings and jeans still on, two long sleeved shirts. She just wanted to be warm. She ran the bath a couple times, waiting in the water till she started shivering again, shedding her clothes, refilling the tub with scalding water. She could hear Bellamy moving around behind the closed door, shuffles from the living room, a banging in the kitchen. Regardless, she kept emptying and refilling the bath, over and over, her skin turning a dark red, fingers pruning up, but still she kept refilling the tub.

Eventually there was a knock at the door, Bellamy’s voice drifting through. “Hey, I have to pee. Are you almost done?” 

The tub had just finished filling, her skin almost burning, couldn’t tell if she felt cold or hot. She pulled the curtain, closing herself off. “Just come in.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Jesus Bel, yes. Holding your bladder is the number one cause for a bladder infection, just come in.” She heard the door open, a shadow cast onto the curtain, she shivered. She heard the sink turn on, Bellamy rustling around. 

“You’ve been in here for like two hours, you okay?”

“Yeah. I was just cold is all.” She moved her hand along the top of the water, almost enjoying the company of someone else in here with her.

“Look, I am so sorry I didn’t come get you. I was helping Miller with something and I got  home, and I was so tired-”

“Don’t worry about it. I got home just fine.”

“Did you walk?”

“Why does it matter?” The sink had turned off.

Somewhere behind the curtain he sighed. “Sorry. I said I would get you and I didn’t and that’s shitty of me.”

“Bellamy, seriously, it’s-. Wait, you don’t have your dick out or anything, right?” 

He coughed, sounding almost offended. “What?”

She pushed the curtain aside, making sure to hide her chest, peaking past the fabric in her hands. He was sitting on the toilet, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Clarke just laughed. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have your dick out while we had this conversation.” 

“Yeah, well you’re all the way naked.” 

She laughed again. “True, but I’m not peeing in the tub.” 

He scrunched his face up. “Dude, gross.” 

They were silent for a bit, Clarke still holding the shower curtain. Bellamy glancing around the bathroom like it was the first time he was seeing it. He didn’t get up to leave, eyes eventually raking over the exposed parts of her body. 

“You look like a lobster.”

“Wow, just what every girl wants to hear.” She leaned back into a sensual pose, one arm holding her  breasts . “Paint me like one of your  crustaceans , Bellamy.” 

He snorted, shaking his head before finally getting up. “Hilarious, please don’t boil in there though. Do you want me to turn the heater up or something?” 

“No, it’s fine.”

“Okay, well. Have a good bath little lobster.” He smiled, rolling his eyes before leaving the bathroom. The soft click of the door behind him almost too loud. 

She got out after that, wrapping herself in her towel, still  shivering . ‘Fuck it.’ and she grabbed his as well, covering as much of herself as possible. She stumbled out of the bathroom, leaving all her clothes, almost tripping over the bag she had left in the hallway. Still cold when she got to her room, flipping the switch and drowning everything in a soft glow. There  were two extra blankets stacked on her bed. She recognized them, smiling as she let the  towels go, climbing into bed and wrapping Bellamy’s blankets around her. She would bet her life that he turned the heater up too. 

They were at some hole in the wall restaurant, a Thanksgiving tradition that the group took  pretty seriously .  _ ‘We make our own rules.’ _ Is what Murphy had told her. Jasper had rolled his eyes. _ ‘What he means is none of us knows how to cook. It’s easier, and more fun this way.’ _ Even Echo was there, the table filled with food and laughter. No one mentioned Clarke, or the fact that she hadn’t touched her plate of salad.

Except Octavia, who had waited long enough for a conversation to begin, arguments over the election, another tradition apparently, before whisper yelling into Clarke’s ear. “Clarke what the hell are you doing?” Octavia had whispered it in her ear, the anger still very much present over the hushed tone.

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re not eating, you look like you’re fucking dying. That’s what I mean. You order a salad? A salad? Who does that?! Are you fucking trying to kill yourself? Because Bellamy said you’re not eating at the apartment, you don’t buy any food, you’re fucking walking all the time, he thinks-”

“Bellamy thinks what?” Clarke’s head snapped up, glaring at the other Blake who wasn’t privy to the conversation yet. “ _ Bellamy thinks what _ ?!” She yelled it across the table, other conversations  immediately ceasing. 

He looked at the two girls, a bite of potatoes hovering at his mouth. “What?” 

“What the fuck does Bellamy think?” 

He looked thoroughly confused now, spoon sat on the plate. “What are you-”

“Because last time I checked,  _ Bellamy _ was still insulting me over my dead father because he thought that was okay. Last time I  checked; I didn’t run to him with all my problems. But he knows so much, right? What does Bellamy think about my eating?  _ P _ _ lease, _ enlighten me, on what Bellamy  _ fucking  _ Blake thinks!” She knew her voice was harsh, each word cutting through her, but she couldn’t stop.

“Clarke.” Murphy looked  concerned . “We’re just worried, all of us.” 

“You look  kinda sick dude.” Monty didn’t meet her eyes when he said this, poking at the turkey on his plate.

“And you all decide to bring this up now?”

“To our credit, we’ve tried before.” Bellamy’s face was closed off, eye’s just watching her.

“Shut the fuck up. How dare you fucking talk about me, you don’t even know me!” She glared at Bellamy, standing from her chair so suddenly it almost toppled, Jasper’s hand reaching out and steadying it last minute. “And how dare you all fucking attack me without even talking to me first.” She grabbed her bags, ignoring them as she made her way out. “Fuck all of you.” 

She felt like an idiot rushing out of the restaurant with tears running down her face, coat and bag in hand as she made her way to her car. Thankful that for once she had driven herself. She made it home before she started sobbing, slamming the apartment door closed, throwing her keys down, kicking her shoes off with so much force, one went tumbling into the kitchen. Over and over in the car she had tried swallowing her anger, over and over, her throat convulsing through deep breaths and saliva. She almost felt like she couldn’t breathe, her hands frantically combing through her hair, pacing back and forth in the living room. She knew she sounded crazy, her breath coming in gasps, on the verge of sobbing. Even though she was looking up, forcing her eyes to stay open, tears still started spilling out. She passed the couch, hands reaching out and grabbing the pillows, throwing them with all her might. She continued to do that till there wasn’t anything on the couch, clothes and blankets thrown around the floor. The coffee table was next, her water glass from three nights ago making a satisfying crack as it hit the wall, shards exploding around her, she felt the water on her arm. Someone had left a plate on the table, pieces of bread flying as it joined the cup. Her phone kept going off in her pocket. She didn’t look at the messages, just sent it flying against the wall too, still buzzing from wherever it had landed. Then she started sobbing, crumpling onto the couch, bawling her sweater in her fist and screaming between her sobs.

It was like she had passed some invisible line. She wanted to eat, and she wanted to talk to her friends about it. But her throat would  close up , and her hands would refuse to put anything inside her. And she  _ just couldn’t _ . It’s not like she was trying to kill herself, she didn’t even mean to starve, but now that she had been doing this for so long, the idea of going back to her old ways scared the shit out of her. It wasn’t even about  weight; it was the control. And she would give anything to keep it. Even if that meant yelling at her friends on Thanksgiving. Because if she let them talk to her, let their worries manifest beyond just worry, she would be forced to do something about it. She couldn’t see an outcome out of this that wouldn’t hurt someone. And Clarke wasn’t the type of person who enjoyed hurting others. She had gone into medicine to do the  opposite . She could count on one hand how many times she had yelled at someone. Thanksgiving dinner had been the fourth. 

It took her thirty minutes to clean everything up, put the living room back together as if she hadn’t destroyed everything, shake the glass out of the blankets, sweep it all up and toss it into the bin. She didn’t want to look at her phone. Just turned it off and put it in one of the kitchen drawers. 

Clarke knew she should have eaten something. Knew that her high of energy could only last so long, her body slowly turning on her as it ate all her fat, started working away at her muscles. From her time in medicine, she knew that no matter how big or small she was, her body was already eating and working at her muscles. She knew she should eat, _ eat more _ .  _ But she physically couldn’t _ . Her hands shaking every time she went for food, everything in her fighting to not put the spoon to her mouth. Like the more she wanted it, the less her body let her have. She didn’t count calories, didn’t weigh herself obsessively, she didn’t care if she was losing weight,  _ really, she didn’t. _ She didn’t have an eating disorder. But a small part of her grew happy when she had to tighten the notch on her belt, had to go and buy new clothes that would fit. A small part of her felt triumphant when another day passed, and she had barely eaten. It felt so good to finally be doing something right. She just didn’t know how to stop.

So, really, Clarke knew she should have eaten something. She knew when she woke up and got out of bed, her ears beating so loud she couldn’t hear her alarm clock anymore. She knew when she could barely stand on her feet, the hunger chewing her stomach so much that every time it growled a deep pain shot through her. She should have eaten, and she knew that. But she skipped breakfast, got dressed, and walked down the stairs. 

Everything was so hazy and blurry; her hands shook so much she kept dropping her keys. She knew she was going to be late for work, everything taking much longer than usual. She had to sit on the edge of her bed to get dressed, had to sit on the third landing of the stairs to catch her breath, and then the second, and then the halfway mark on the second. She got to her car and nearly fell inside, her heart beating so fast she felt like she might die. It was the fourth time she fainted, sitting in the parking lot, in her car, keys resting on her lap as her head fell sideways. Another three minutes as she got her bearings, trying to catch her breath even though she wasn’t exerting herself. She knew she should have eaten something. But she still turned the car on, moving the clutch and reversing.  _ She knew she should have eaten. _ But she got on the highway. She could feel the blackness overtaking her, but she couldn’t do anything about it. Her head falling to the side again, the wheel turning in her hands. She didn’t hear anything or see anything. Just smelled smoke, a chemical like powder going up her nose. There was pressure on her face, she could faintly hear people talking, like she was in a bubble, everything muffled through the ringing in her ears. She tried to open her eyes but wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or not. That was the last thing she remembered.


	4. Don't ask if I'm happy, you know that I'm not. But at best I can say I'm not sad.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been tearing around in my fucking nightgown  
> 24/7 Sylvia Plath  
> Writing in blood on my walls  
> 'Cause the ink in my pen don't work in my notepad  
> Don't ask if I'm happy, you know that I'm not  
> But at best, I can say I'm not sad  
> 'Cause hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have  
> Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have  
> -Lana Del Rey, Hope is a Dangerous Thing for a Woman like me to have
> 
> Hey yall! Thank's for being patient. I'm not 100% sure if the next chapter will be the last. I haven't written much beyond the posting of this chapter so if it seems to fit, I might add one more chapter. WARNING BUT NO SPOILER?! But this has more to do with mental health stuff, SH, ED, etc. Please be careful reading this if that's a trigger for you. As always criticism and comments are greatly appreciated! Also, even though I've seen more Grey's Anatomy than I have my family, I'm actually NOT a doctor, so if there's inconsistencies or inaccuracies in the medical talk I am truly sorry. xx

Later, Octavia would inform her that she had woken up twice before, grabbing towards the tubes in her mouth and nose, always confused and not making sense. But she  couldn’t remember.  So when she woke up the third time in the hospital, one tube in her nose,  needles in her arm, hands strapped to the side of the bed, she had no idea what was going on. 

“Hey, Clarke, hey, you’re okay.” Octavia was standing over her, the girl brushed the hair from her face, pushing a button on the wall. “Don’t move okay? I’m getting the doctor.” 

Her throat hurt, the tube in her nose going down her throat, a weird feeling every time she swallowed. 

The doctor arrived shortly after Octavia had pushed the button. He picked up her chart that was hanging at the end of her bed, flipping through a couple pages before stepping closer to the girl. “Good evening miss Griffin, I’m Dr. Kane, I’ve been your attending during your stay with us. You gave us all quite the scare.” He crossed his arms, checking her vitals before continuing. “Do you remember what happened?” 

She cleared her throat, her voice a  scratchy and low. “I was driving to work.” She glanced at Octavia who looked uncomfortable, only meeting her eyes for a second. “How long have I been here?” 

“Not long, you were in a pretty bad car accident. You have a couple broken ribs and some bruising, but other than that I would consider you extremely lucky.” He glanced at Octavia then, who made a feeble excuse to get coffee, squeezing Clarke’s hand on her way out. “Do you know why you crashed?”

“No.”  _ Yes.  _ “Why is there a tube in my nose?”

“We took your blood and ran an EKG; your heart is not doing so great, and your blood work, well, I think you know where I’m going with this. You’re pretty malnourished.” 

She didn’t say anything, her hands twitching in their restraints. He seemed to notice, bending over her and taking them off. Her wrists were sore, like she had been straining in her sleep.  _ Was it sleep? _

“Sorry about that. The first time you woke up, you tried to take the tubes out. We just wanted to make sure you were safe. Your friend tells me you’re a med student.”

_She used to be_ _a med student._ Clarke didn’t bother correcting him. 

“She also tells me you’re incredibly smart. So, tell me what this sounds like. Elevated levels of serum sodium and potassium chloride, muscle waste, signs of periungual erythema, wonder why your nail beds are off color?” He pointed towards her hands and she clenched them, hiding her fingers. “Low blood pressure, poor circulation. You know where I’m going with this.” 

She pulled a small smile to her face. “I almost wish I didn’t. What happens now?” 

“Well you have a couple options. We need to keep you here another night for observation. The way your heart is going combined with the other symptoms, I would highly recommend an impatient treatment facility.” He smiled when she rolled her eyes. “I know. But that would be the best option.” 

“And my other options?”

“Keep doing what you’re doing, and the next time you come in here I will have you involuntarily committed.”

“That soon huh?”

“The rate your body is deteriorating? Yes ma'am. And the least promising option, the next time you come here, you won’t even make it past the emergency room.” 

“Way to keep it real Doc.” 

The man shrugged. “You deserve the truth, you’re smart enough to know what to do. Do you know how much weight you’ve lost?” 

It was Clarke’s turn to shrug. “I wasn’t keeping track.”

“If you had to guess?”

“Thirty,  _ maybe _ forty pounds.” 

“What period of time?”

“Seven months, give or take.” She was still taking her boards when all of this had started. Back before the Summer when she genuinely forgot to eat sometimes. There was snow on the ground now, snow even in the hospital room, someone pinning tiny paper flakes to the windows and ceiling. 

“That’s a lot, considering if I were to guess correctly, thirty or forty pounds on you would place you in the healthy range. That amount of restricting in that much time? Bad trouble for your organs my friend. Which I’m sure you already knew.”

She nodded. 

“You have a lot to think about miss Griffin. But I’m going to have our social worker give you a visit before we discharge you. There’s a really good facility not far from here, Mount Weather. I’ll have her show you the papers for it. Think about it.” He tapped her bed twice.

“Does my mother know I’m here?” 

His eyebrows went up. “I don’t believe so. We used the emergency contact information from your phone. That question would be better suited for your friend.” 

“Right.”

“You’re Abigale Griffin’s daughter, aren't’ you?” 

“Guilty.” 

He hmm’d, “A battle in its own.” 

Octavia walked back in then, a cup of coffee in her hands, slipping her phone into her pocket before taking her spot next to Clarke. 

“Well, I will leave you to it. We have you hooked up to a heart monitor currently, try not to pull anything off or the machines will go nuts. The nurses will be coming in and out, and I’ll be back to see you tomorrow.” He left, giving a nod to both girls.

“So.” Clarke wished she was dressed, that there wasn’t an NG tube going into her stomach. That would make things a little less awkward. “I fucked up pretty bad, huh?” 

O sat on the chair next to her, eyes focusing on her cup. She didn’t say anything.

“I am, so, so,  _ so,  _ sorry for what I said at Thanksgiving. I should have called or texted, but I was selfish. I thought I would wait a couple days, and that turned into weeks. And  there’s no excuse.  I’m sorry. O, please, I am so sorry.” 

“Do you know how terrifying it is to get a call from the hospital saying you were here, that they couldn’t tell me what had happened? I thought you had died. I thought I was coming here to identify your dead body.”

“I know, I’m-”

“ _ Do you? _ Because we are all worried out of our minds and you don’t even seem to care that you’re killing yourself.” 

She felt a tear drip onto her gown. “I do care. I just don’t know what to do.” O had every right to be mad, she knew that. But the words still hurt. She supposed in a way she deserved it.

Octavia was crying too; she could see the coffee spilling over in the girls shaking hands. “Do not fucking die. Do you understand me? If you die, I will fucking kill you Clarke. I’m serious, I will never forgive you if you leave me. And I know that’s fucked up and selfish, but I don’t think you realize how much we all love you. And I know I’m supposed to give you words of comfort or some bullshit, but honestly, I am so pissed off right now. Why are you killing yourself? Why are you doing this to yourself, and to us? Because I don’t think you realize the effect your actions have on those who fucking care about you. Clarke, I swear to god, if you die, I will never forgive you. I can forgive you for everything else,  _ but not that _ .” 

“I know, I know. _ I won’t. O, I’m so sorry.  _ I don’t know what else to say.” She let her head fall back onto the bed, she felt smaller than ever. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.” 

Murphy had come later that night, the room felt strained and forced. She could still see the worry on his face, the fear in his eyes. She made sure to hug them both before they left, over and over saying how sorry she was. She could tell Octavia was still upset, her face setting into this hard wall that looked so much like Bellamy’s. Her eyebrows not moving, hands falling straight to her side after she hugged Clarke. She knew O still loved her and cared, but anger had always been her strongest emotion, a way to show she cared without revealing anything else. She had slipped her phone into Clarke's hand before leaving, telling her to message everyone that she was okay.  _ Clarke knew she meant Bellamy. _ Still, she was thankful. She almost felt bad reading the messages on her phone, scanning the conversations she had with everyone after the accident. 

** Clarkes at the hospital, she was in an accident.  **

Bel

** WTF? Whats going on?????? **

Jasper

** Is she ok????? **

** Lincoln and I are already here,  ** ** theyre ** ** not telling us much. Shes alive. **

Bel

** Omw right now. **

There was a few more, the gang wondering what was going on, Murphy and Bellamy making plans to meet with O at the hospital. She exited the group conversation, went to the one with Bellamy. She almost didn’t want to look at it.

** Fuck Bellamy they have her hooked up to so much shit. She looks like shes dying... **

Bel

** Don’t even think that. What did the dr say? **

** Shes hardly hurt from the car accident. Its her heart  ** ** theyre ** ** worried about. Shes fine mINUS THE FACT SHES BEEN STARVING HERSELF **

Bel

** She’s tough, she’ll pull through. **

** Will she??????? **

There wasn’t anything after that, Clarke assuming Bellamy had arrived then, everything else in the girls' phone silent. Her fingers tapped at the screen a couple times, wondering what to even say. She settled on the simplest thing she could. 

** Hey.  **

Bellamy didn’t take long to respond, almost as if he had his phone in hand, ready to text his sister.  _ Ready for her to report back on how Clarke was doing.  _

Bel

** Hey, she ok???? **

** Yeah, I’m fine. They’re keeping me tonight. O gave me her phone.  **

The message took longer to come through, the dots appearing and then disappearing multiple times, before finally, his text arrived. 

Bel

** Can I come see you tomorrow? **

** Okay.  **

She put the phone down after that, probably should have messaged Lincoln to thank O for her, make sure she got home okay, or Murphy. But she suddenly felt the pull of the world on her eyes, even with all the hospital machines, the pain in her side. She closed her eyes and drifted off. 

True to his word, Dr. Kane returned in the morning. “Miss Griffin! Glad to see you’re still alive.” He grabbed her chart. 

“Doc, a pleasure as always.”

“Your heart is still giving me some concern. How are you feeling this morning?” He pulled the stethoscope from around his neck, having the girl sit up and breathe deeply. 

“I feel like I was in a car accident.” 

“Hilarious. Does your heart feel like it’s skipping around?” 

She shrugged. “A little, not too badly though. My urine outtake is fine, and the last EKG didn’t show any abnormalities.” 

He smiled, crossing his arms. “Well you know what they say. Doctors make the worst patients. The last EKG didn’t, but the three before did. Have you given any thought to our conversation yesterday?” 

“Not really.”  _ Yes. _ It was all she had thought about waking up. 

“Well the social worker should be by later today, after your talk with her I’ll come back, and you can let me know what you’ve decided before we discharge you.” 

She nodded and he left, returning her chart to the end of the bed, swinging the stethoscope into one of his pockets. 

Time passed quickly in the hospital. It had only been twelve hours, the night had rolled into morning, most of which Clarke had slept through. She felt better and worse, her ribs screaming every time she moved or breathed. But for the first time in a while she didn’t feel dizzy, her hands still shaking but not as much. She was eyeing the bag of liquid that was being pumped into her, when Bellamy strolled in. He had her father’s sweatshirt in his hands, gently laying it over her lap, not meeting her eyes. Just like Octavia.

He sat in O’s empty chair, reached out, grabbing her hand and holding on tight. He wouldn’t look at her, but she could see how glassy his eyes were. Her empty hand playing with the hole in her dad's shirt. “I don’t know how this happened. Which sounds dumb to say, because anyone else can look at me and know. But I really don’t know. I was so stressed with school, forgetting to eat was easy. And then I just kept doing it. And my mom mention that I looked good, and for a while I felt good so what’s the harm in keeping it up, right? And it felt so good not to eat, but then when I wanted to, I just couldn’t. And I knew what I was doing, but I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t know how to ask for help, or I didn’t want help, _ I don’t know _ . It’s pathetic. I stopped with med school and I stopped eating and I’m a fucking adult.” The tears started again; she didn’t bother trying to keep them away, looking away from his hand. “How do you ask someone to help you put your life together when you’re supposed to be an adult?” His hand tightened. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for putting everyone in this situation and making everyone worry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I never meant for this to happen.” 

“So. Octavia ripped you a new one huh?” 

She laughed, an odd combination of relief and sorrow falling from her lips. “It was deserved.” 

“Maybe. She cares about you, we all do.” 

“Finally admitting that we’re friends?” 

“Clarke.” And the way he said her name, the way it sounded like someone was slowly pulling it from his lungs, she had to look at him. He looked wrecked; his eyebrows drawn over his eyes. Like she was already gone, and he was talking to her ghost. “I say this from the bottom of my heart, we all love you, so much, but I don’t want to be friends with someone who’s going to die.” 

Her lips shook, she felt it in her sentence as it barely came out. “I’m not going to die.” 

“You have organ damage,  _ damage. _ Your body is eating away at your heart. If you don’t stop, you’ll die.” His face matched hers, she could see the collection of tears on his chin, the light shining off his face in an almost angelic glow. 

“My doctor wants me to go to Mount Weather.”

“What do you want?” 

She bit the inside of cheek, glancing away from the intensity of his expression. “I want to feel okay again.” 

Clarke had never been to an impatient treatment facility before, she  wasn’t sure what to expect out of Mount Weather. After all the paperwork had been signed, after she had said bye to Murphy and Octavia and Bellamy, been shown her room, she fell right back to sleep. Her father's sweatshirt tucked all around her like a blanket. It was  almost six when someone woke her up. 

“ Yo wildcat, dinner is in like fifteen minutes.” 

She sat up, the girl who woke her sitting on the opposite bed. “Are you-?”

“Roommate, Raven. Nice to meet you, and welcome to hell.” 

She laughed. “I’m Clarke. I guess there’s no way of skipping out of dinner?” 

Raven smiled. “Good luck with that one, if there’s anything these birds love more than gossip, it’s making sure you get your allotted calories.” The girl tilted her head, eyeing Clarke up and down. “Let me guess, eating disorder. Bulimia or anorexia? Or both?” 

“Neither actually, just don’t eat, I guess.”

“Oh god, not another denier. Let me offer you some advice, whether you think you have an eating disorder or not,  you’re in here for a reason, you  have to be  pretty bad to end up here. So, accept the help and accept your disorder. It’ll make things run a lot smoother.” The girl  had got up then, walking out of their room. 

Mount weather was an adult treatment facility. _ ‘A fancy way of saying mental hospital. _ ’ Raven had mentioned offhandedly in group, the girl snickering as the attending’s reprimanded her. There was rules and a system to follow and she was supposed to get therapy five times a week and do art therapy on Tuesdays and Thursdays and she  couldn’t use the bathroom an hour after meals.  _ It was a lot to take in. _

She had sat through introduction, everyone’s faces blurring together, the only name she remembered was Raven’s. She sat next to her during dinner, trying and failing to finish her pasta. They had played weird table games; a couple of the other people had started crying during the meal. Clarke was just pissed.  _ They hadn’t let her bring her dads sweatshirt into the dining room.  _

“It’s too much food. How do you expect me to eat all of this?” Especially when she’d barely eaten in months.

The attending in charge had sighed, like if she could, she would have said ‘oh honey.’ They had given her Ensure after, a  sickly-sweet drink that was supposed to be in place of all the calories she  hadn’t consumed. She had to drink two whole cups. 

After two days, her hand had bruised from where they had stuck her with needles, dark spots on her chest from where they had placed the pads for the heart monitor. And already she felt like she’d been living at Mount Weather for all her life. In here, time was measured not in hours or minutes, but in activities and meals. Every hour they could go outside and smoke if they wanted, a tech coming out and rounding people out. Group happened every day at four, they all sat in a circle and talked. About their days, the weather, something difficult that was going to happen, something they had overcome. At eight, noon, and six fifteen, their meals were served, snacks in between. At seven, visiting hours started. It was refreshing. Clarke felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut off. In here, they didn’t have to worry about the real world, a therapist or counselor doing it for them. There was a certain feeling of freedom, even though they were locked behind closed doors. People spoke freely and plainly, an air of realism that the girl wasn’t used to. She had come in over the weekend, unable to meet her therapist until that Monday. 

“Good morning. You must be Clarke?” 

She nodded, taking a seat on a plush couch, the cushions almost swallowing her. 

“I’m  Thelonious Jaha , I’m sure they told you I would be your therapist.” 

She nodded again, pulling her sweater closer. 

He nodded slowly along with her. “Well, the techs are reporting that you’re doing pretty well, trying to eat your meals, finishing most of your supplements.” 

“Is that surprising?”

He shrugged, crossing his legs in his chair. “Not necessarily. You’d be surprised the amount of times people actually try to get better in a place like this.” 

“And what do I need to get better from?” 

He smiled, leaning forward slightly, twirling a pen in his hands. “You still don’t think you have an eating disorder? I saw your admittance papers. How come?” 

“I lost weight, big deal. I stopped eating, oh no, the end of the world.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s fine, I got a reality check, I’ll be fine.” 

“You lost a lot of weight, in not a lot of time. Fainting, discolored fingertips, irregular heart rhythm, low blood pressure. You want me to continue? Or do you want to tell me from a medical standpoint what you would diagnose that as?” 

“I don’t have an eating disorder.” 

“What would be so bad at saying you did?” 

“I haven’t suffered all my life. I didn’t even weigh myself at home. I don’t know how many calories are in a bagel, and I can only guess what food group that’s in. I stopped eating, like an idiot, and now I’m here because this is the consequence of that action.” 

“Clarke. Eating disorders manifest themselves in a multitude of ways. I had a patient who  didn’t eat because she  was scared of impure foods, she  wasn’t trying to lose weight either, she had just made these strict rules in her head that became so much, it controlled her, she stopped eating all together. She spent three weeks here before telling me when she was a kid, her mother had been diagnosed with cancer. Her mom stopped eating, most foods making her throw up, so in turn, she stopped eating and developed this coping mechanism. At the end of the day, eating disorder or not,  you’re doing this to cope with something else. Divorced parents, sick mother, bulling, life being too much.  Maybe it starts out innocently enough, but no one starves themselves for the fun of it. I’m not here to make you admit to something you don’t believe, I’m just here to help you figure out what you’re trying to cope with.” 

There was about twenty other people on the unit Clarke was on. All female, all suffering from something. Clarke  hadn’t made a huge effort to get to know everyone, people already having their cliques, certain people sat next to each other at meals and groups and she  didn’t want to disrupt that,  didn’t want to step on anyone's toes. They were all nice enough, making her feel welcome and helping her with the rules, but she  wasn’t building any lasting relationships.  _ Except Raven. _

The place  wasn’t exclusive to eating disorders, but from what she could pick up, about seven people on unit had food issues. Seven other people from her unit going to the same food related groups with her, seven other people unable to use the restroom, or wear baggy clothes to meal. Seven other people in line with her in the mornings for weights.  _ Not Raven though. _

“Nah, I prefer a more direct form of self-harm.” The girl had lifted her sleeve, showing a ladder of scars that kept going up till they disappeared. 

Raven was a lot like Octavia, she was straight to the point, sarcastic,  didn’t take shit from anyone. She called everyone out in group, but in  a nice way , telling them what they needed to hear. She was direct, but in a way that made everything think she was a therapist. She was friends with everyone that stepped foot into the center, no surprise to Clarke that they had become friends. Even still, Raven spent more time with the blonde than anyone else. It was nice to have someone, even in here.

“How come you’re so smart and knowing of everyone else in here, but yourself?” 

They were lying in bed, lights out had already been called but the girls didn’t want to go to sleep. Clarke was buried under three blankets and two sets of pajamas. Raven was laying on top of her covers. 

“What do you mean?” She could hear the other girl shift a couple times.

“Well, you’re so good at dissecting everyone else’s problems. But  you’ve been in here for four months. So what aren’t you dissecting about your own?” 

“Clarke, ever the observant.” She could hear the girl sigh in the darkness. “I’ve been in here for so long. Eventually you kind of forget what the real world is like.  I’m a particle physicist in the real world. I love my job more than anything, I never let my cutting stop it. Until now, I guess. Now I feel like  I’ve been gone so long. What if there’s things I  can't remember? What if I  don’t push myself as hard? I know  you’re not supposed to say this but cutting helped me be a better person. Now I  have to choose between the best possible version of myself, or mediocrity. I guess I’m just scared.” 

“You haven’t cut in a while, right?” 

“Yeah, about three months.” 

“Well I don’t think you’re mediocre now.” 

“You’ve never seen me at work. But thanks.” 

They had stopped talking after that, Clarke listened as Raven’s breathing evened out, wondering how the hell she could fall asleep on top of her covers, or so fast. She had been at the facility for five days now, had gotten used to the whacky rules, rolling her eyes when someone told her she couldn’t shake her leg. _ ‘It’s a way to burn calories, sorry love.’  _ Her pockets searched before and after every meal. She wasn’t allowed out of the unit yet, wasn’t allowed to walk up and down stairs for groups, forced to take the elevator with other emaciated patients. She almost felt like a child again. Set feeding times, bathroom times, group times, sleep times, wake up times. 

They got her out of bed every morning at five-thirty, drawing more blood or taking a urine sample, weighing her , and taking her blood pressure. A list of questions she answered as truthfully as possible. She missed it when it was Bellamy who was waking her. She got what Raven said about forgetting the real world. Inside the unit, in her own personal bubble, she  didn’t have to think about her friends  _ or her mom _ . What she would do when she got out. She  didn’t have to do anything except get up and eat, go to  groups and eat, sleep and then eat and then sleep more. She felt safe. It scared her to think how that would change once she was discharged.

“Anything you want to talk about today?”  Thelonious was in his usual chair, pen tapping against his notepad.

“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to come up with topics?” Clarke was on the couch, the cushion closest to the window. 

“Well, you’ve been here over two weeks now. This is usually the time we let you have visitors.” She didn’t respond so he continued. “There’s been a couple people who’ve called asking to see you.” 

“Who?”

He shuffled through his notes, pen running down the page. “Bellamy Blake, Jon Murphy, and Lincoln  Tri \- Tree-” He stumbled a bit.

“ Trikru . Lincoln  Trikru .” Octavia wasn’t on the list.

“Do you want them to see you?” 

She looked out the window, it had started snowing again. “Yeah, I guess. Am I allowed to call them?” 

He smiled, ripping a page from his book and handing it to her, three numbers scratched on it along with their names. “Friends of yours?” 

“Family, more like.” She folded the paper a couple times, putting it in her pocket.

“That’s good. It’s good to have a strong support system.” He settled into his chair, letting them sit in silence for a couple minutes. “So, if you won’t choose a topic, does that mean I can?” 

She shrugged. “Be my guest.”

“You won’t let us talk about your mother. Any  particular reason why?” 

“She’s not important, that’s why.” 

“So she has nothing to do with,” he waved his hand vaguely, “anything?” 

“She doesn’t have anything to do with me. Anymore.” 

“ Why is that?” 

Clarke sighed, wishing she had just told him how hard it was to get through meals. “My mom is Abigail Griffin, as in Griffin General is named after her.” 

He didn’t seem faced, waiting for her to continue.

“I was a med student. When all of this started, I was taking my first board exams, she had a lot of say in everything I did, or I did everything she said, I  don’t know. All of this happened, and I  didn’t want to do medicine anymore. I never did, I hate it. I  don’t want to be anything like her, not anymore. Anyway, I took my boards and passed and then I just stopped. I didn’t intern anywhere, and I stopped talking to her, and in return, she broke up with me.” 

Thelonious looked thoughtful for a moment. “If you hate medicine why did you go into it?” 

Clarke laughed, her smile turning flat after a second. “Now that’s the million-dollar question isn’t it?”

She was sitting in the milieu with Raven after dinner. A couple of the other girls playing round after round of banana grams. Board games were the new tv, drawing and knitting the new texting. Clarke almost wished she had taken up some art form, something that would keep her busy, keep her mind busy. Raven did origami, her hands constantly working to contort some paper, or napkin, or even their group worksheets, into something beautiful. She was always surrounded by tiny paper creations. 

“Now, fold the top part up, and then bend this part into a beak.” Raven was showing her how to make a paper Crain, hers coming out beautifully, all sharp creases and perfect points. 

“Um. Is it supposed to look like this?” Clarke held up her badly formed bird.

“Oh my god, don’t be a surgeon your hands are not skilled enough!”

She joined the other girl in laughter, throwing the paper her way. There was only half the amount of people mulling around, it was visiting hours,  a majority of the group off in different rooms with family or friends or significant others. Clarke  wasn’t sure if someone would come for her today or not. She still had the paper of numbers in her pants pocket, wondered if  Thelonious had told them they could come or not. As the evening progressed and no one arrived for her, she figured she would have to do the calling. She had given up on the paper birds, pushing the stack of papers at Raven who was all to happy to sit in her own little world, folding away. “If you almost died, and you knew your friends were mad at you, but still cared about you, would you call them?”

Raven snorted. “I did almost die thank you very much. And my friends were pissed but pissed out of caring.  Also, you literally answered your own question,  _ they still care about you _ .” 

Clarke sighed, pulling her sweater over her knees. “It’s not like they don’t know I’m here or anything, they fucking helped me walk through the doors.” She glanced at the front entrance, another family member walking through for some short  brunette . “It’s just. What do I say? ‘Hey, still in the nut house, doing great, you know stuffing my face and trying to put on weight.’ Like I wouldn’t know what to talk to them about. I wouldn’t know what to say except sorry.” She looked back at Raven, the other girl staring at her with her eyebrows raised.

“Seriously? They’re your friends. Maybe they won't understand the full mental hospital experience, but just be honest with them. It took me like a month before I even talked about what was happening in here. They won’t one hundred percent understand, but I’m sure they’ll appreciate you for trying.” 

She bumped the other girls' shoulders. “Thanks doc.” 

“Smartass. Hey, that dude’s looking at you.” 

Clarke glanced up towards the door, where Bellamy was standing, hands stuffed in his pockets, grinning at her strangely. “Oh my god.” 

“Damn girl, that is one tall glass of water.” 

She smacked Raven before getting up, stumbling her way towards him. “You’re here? Did  Thelonious call you?” 

He reached out and hugged her, pulling her close. She could feel the autumn air on his jacket, remnants of snow melting away. “Who?” 

“My doctor, he didn’t call you?” 

He pulled her back and let go, placing his hands back inside. “No. I, guess I got lucky that today was the day they let you have visitors.” 

She looked around, Raven suggestively wiggling her eyebrows. “Uh, come on, we can go to my room.” She grabbed at his wrist, pulling his hand from his pocket, leading him to her shared room. She sat on her bed, awkwardly patting the spot beside her so he would join. 

“So, how's the place treating you?” He sat down slowly, almost too far away, one leg hanging off the bed. 

“It’s fine.” She leaned against the wall, trying to come up with something, anything, to say. “How’s everyone doing?” 

“Ah, you know. Murphy wants to come see you too. You can actually have visitors now, right?” 

She laughed. “Yeah, it just got approved today.” 

“Good, that’s good.” He looked around her shared space. “Do you want me to bring you anything? Can you have stuff in here?” 

“Yeah, just bring some clothes, I would love you forever. Oh! And my toothbrush and deodorant and stuff would be great.” 

He leaned a bit a closer, pretending to smell her. “Damn Princess, I’ll make that my number one priority.” He leaned back and mock saluted her.

“Fuck off Blake, I smell delectable.” 

“I’m kidding.” He scooted a bit, both legs on the bed, mirroring her as he pushed his back against the wall. “You look better.” He studied her, hand reaching up to push a lock of her hair away. “You look more alive.” 

“So , you’ll be my friend now?” 

He laughed,  _ actually _ laughed, throwing his head back, his eyes briefly closing. “Oh my god Clarke, I swear the world could be ending and all you would care about is our friendship status.” 

She shrugged, looking away and crossing her arms over her knees. “It’s important to me.” 

He sobered up, turning his head to stare at her. “You’re not trying to kill yourself?”

She opened her mouth, wanted to tell him she never was, closed it, and tried to swallow the lump in her trachea. Settled on shaking her head, not trusting her voice. 

“Good. I guess we can be friends then.” He reached across the bed, touching her ankle hands wrapping completely around it, smiling. “But you know that you have to treat my friend nicely or I’ll have to kick your ass, right?” 

“Bellamy Blake beating up a girl? I’d like to see you try.” She let go of her knees, hand resting around his wrist. They sat like that for a while, his thumb brushing her ankle every now and then. If she pressed down hard enough, she could count his heartbeat. An attending passed their room twice, peaking her head in and making sure they were okay, that Clarke was okay. “How’s Octavia doing?” 

His thumb stopped moving, face shutting down briefly. “She’s fine. Worried still. I think it’s going to take her a bit of time.” 

“Yeah, I , uh, I figured.” 

“I know I should be telling this to O and not you, but take it easy on her okay? She was the first one at the hospital after the accident. She saw you, when they had you hooked up to everything. I’ve never seen her so scared in my life.”

Her stomach turned over. Clarke had always known the affects her actions would have on her, even if she put it away, locked it inside a box in the back of her mind. She didn’t think about it,  _ but she knew _ . She never realized the affects it would have on her friends. On Octavia. Part of her figured it would all work out in the end, she would just start eating, and half a year of her life where she starved would be a distant memory. Another part, a small part that she tried not to listen to, said she would die, and would never have to deal with these consequences. She never had a third part that said she would be in treatment. That her friend would have to see her lying in a hospital bed.  Have to see her like that, _ again. _

The truth  was Octavia had seen it before. Two years after they had become friends, when they were living together. One day, Clarke had just started thinking about her dad, and she just couldn’t stop. She didn’t know what was happening to her. She was on  autopilot , moving her body because that was what she was supposed to do. Eating when O reminded her, showering when the girl made a comment. There  were so many times she had wet her bed, hiding the sheets in her closet till her whole room smelled like a decaying hospital, till O would drag her things out, crying as she stuffed everything in the washer. They had the same conversation so many times.  _ ‘Clarke, please, you need to get help.’ ‘I’m fine, I’m just sad, it’ll get better, I promise.’  _

She would stay up, night after night, praying that her lungs would stop working, that the  breath exiting her body would be her last. Sometimes she would lay  really still and hold it, straining her chest, lungs burning, only for the force of it to kick her, her mouth opening against her will and gasping. Sometimes she would sit at the table with O, feeling so gone, like she was only a shadow of herself. Her breathing would become slow and shallow, and her mind would think  _ ‘this is  _ _ it; _ _ this is when you go.’  _ But then O would ask her something, pat her on the back, set something in front of her, and again she would be kicked, oxygen rushing back into her body. Bellamy had seen it once, joking that she was forgetting how to breathe. 

O had never told anyone else, helping clean up Clarke’s messes by herself. Back then, it was her mother that had kicked her to reality, but Octavia was always there to help pick up the pieces. 

The attending arrived again, tapping her watch. “Sorry Hun, you got about ten minutes till visiting hours are over.”

Bellamy removed his hand then, lacing his fingers on his lap. “Do you want me to come back tomorrow? I’ll let Murphy know too, I think he calls the center everyday asking about you.” 

“Yeah, that’s fine.” 

They stood up, a split second of  awkward eye contact, or lack thereof, before Bellamy scooped her up again. His chin resting on her head, his hands still a bit cold as they wrapped around her. It was the best she felt all week. “I’m glad you’re alive.” 

She moved her face a bit, reaching so her forehead rested just  below his ear, blinking and letting her lashes brush over his neck “Me too.”

Thelonious had told her some days would be great. She would laugh through groups, sitting next to Raven who kept folding paper, Clarke going for doodling on the paper birds instead. And even meals were okay, the games were fun and an easy distraction. Some days there would be snow on the ground, and they would all go outside and throw wet clumps of dirt at each other, hands freezing after ten minutes. Clarke would even replace her usual granola bar at snack with hot coco.  _ There would be good days.  _

“Fuck, I said three times I’m not eating it, fuck off.  I’m allowed to have a day where I  don’t fucking want anything? You want to pretend you’ve never gone a day without food?” She pushed the plate of food so hard it almost landed on a girl across from her, the attending grinding her teeth. She  didn’t apologize. Raven looked like she wanted to  chime in, but Clarke got up and stormed out of the dining room, flipping off the tech who was trying to get her to stay. Thelonious had also said there would be bad days, and sometimes the days turned into weeks and months. That it was her job to pull herself from those days by reminding herself of the good days yet to come. She knew when she had woken up yesterday, that it was  a bad day . Her heart was racing, a pit of dread in her stomach for  seemingly no reason, a bad taste in her mouth from a dream she  couldn’t remember.  It continued, even after she had gone to sleep. It was as if all the rage she had swallowed through the months was coming back up her throat, and no matter how hard she tried to push it back down, it refused to leave her. She felt on edge, ready to scream at anyone who would look at her. 

“ It’s normal to experience mood swings.  You’re in a new environment and we’ve taken away your coping skill.” 

She was sitting in  Jaha’s office, leg violently shaking, a habit she probably stole from Bellamy. At least Thelonious was nice enough to not reprimand her for it. “I thought being here was supposed to make me feel better.” 

“Well, it’s not magic. It’s going to take longer than four weeks, and most of it’s up to you.” He briefly removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes before placing them back on his nose. “The attendants tell me you’ve refused the last four meals and you’re not drinking all of your Ensure.” 

“Everyone has bad days, you said so yourself.” 

He smiled at her, not in a condescending way, but in a way that made her almost feel disappointed in herself. “Everyone does have bad days. But when you have an eating disorder, you’re not everyone. This is a very fragile time in your life, Clarke. You need to start making decisions for yourself, decide how much of this is going to take your life. Because if you let it, _ it will consume you _ and eventually, maybe not next week or month or year, but eventually _ , it will kill you _ . Not only will it kill you, it will kill every aspect of your life, so much so, that you’ll wonder why you bother living. You deserve a life, you deserve to be happy, and you deserve to give that to yourself. I’m not saying that fighting this will always bring you these things, but it will let them come easier to you. Everyone does have bad days, but you need to push through and fight like goddamn hell, otherwise you will not reach those good days.”

She called Octavia that night,  nervously twirling the phone  cord between her fingers in the private phone room. She almost wished she’d brought a piece of paper to doodle on. The line rang, multiple times, before,

“Hello?”

“Hey O, it’s me.” 

There was a brief pause, she could hear someone else talking in the background. “Hey, how are you?” 

She let go of the chord,  straitening it out before starting the process over again. “Fine, I’m fine. How are you?” It was strained, even in her ears. 

“I’m good.” There was another moment of silence. “Bel says you look like you’re doing good.” 

“Yeah, uh, they  won't tell me how much weight I’ve put on, obviously. But I feel a lot better.” 

“That’s good. Do you know when you can come home?”

“Ah, no not yet.” She cleared her throat, the line going dead for a second before she released the tension in the cord, O’s breathing heard through the speaker. “I was wondering if you would come down, sometime.”  _ To visit me. To see me. To let me explain and apologize again.  _

“I don’t know Clarke.” 

“Okay, well no pressure or anything.” 

“It’s not that,” She heard the girl sigh into the  receiver . “I want to. I just don’t know if I can.” 

“Yeah that’s fine, I get it.” Her fingers trembled in the cord.

Octavia laughed, a harsh sound that was cut off by someone saying something near her. “Yeah, I know, Christ. Sorry, Lincolns like, right in my ear right now. I don’t know Clarke, okay? Just. Can I call you back on this number?”

“Oh, yeah, only between three and nine PM. Someone else will probably answer, just ask for me.”

“Okay. I’ll try and call you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Bye Clarke.”

“Bye.” She kept the phone to her ear, the dial tone humming where O’s voice had just been. _ “Love you.”  _

After a second, she hung up the phone before pulling it off again, dialing a different number and waiting out the rings.

“Clarke?” There was shuffling on the other end. 

She could almost picture him, turning the page of a book, sitting in his spot. It was cold enough that the he was probably under a blanket, heater turned up, maybe the tv playing in the background. What she would give to be there with him right now. “Hey Bellamy.”


	5. Say yes to heaven, say yes to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you go, I'll stay  
> You come back, I'll be right here  
> Like a barge at sea  
> In the storm, I stay clear  
> 'Cause I've got my mind on you  
> I've got my mind on you.   
> -Lana Del Rey, Yes to Heaven.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for being so patient! I am once again asking for your forgiveness because I've added another chapter.. I wanted to get this out and the rest isn't finished yet. The next update may take some time. Thank you to everyone reading and leaving comments you all mean the world to me! <3\. 
> 
> A HUGE shout out to TheInvisibledisaster and their story of Love Like Fools, and, I Don't Need your Love (I just need you now) A majority of my Murphy vibes came from them. (Check the stories out they are AMAZING.) ((Both stories are in my bookmarks))

Raven left on her fifth month at the center. 

“To the date. It must be  some kind of sign .” She hugged the blonde, ruffling her hair like a little kid. “Try not to die without me.” 

“Funny.” Clarke had to wipe at her tears. “You’ll be okay, right?” 

The other girl threw her clothes into a duffel bag, shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe, maybe not. Relax kid, if I’m not okay, it won’t be from lack of trying.” The girl zipped her duffel, slouching onto it, the air slowly being squeezed out as she propped herself on her elbows. “But enough about me. Will  _ you  _ be okay?” 

“No, I’m actually going to OD on my prescription Tylenol as soon as you leave.” Clarke laughed as Raven rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine. Besides, there’s no way I’ll come to a treatment center again without you.” 

“Co-plan a mental  institution date?” 

Clarke laughed. “Tempting. But I seriously hate getting up at five AM. And you snore.” 

“The fuck? I do not.”

“I’ll just call you and we can skip the whole insurance, ambulance rides, and being told what to do all the time.”

“Now  _ that, _ sounds like a good plan. We can just have a sleepover where our friends take all our strings and force us to watch PG movies.” 

Clarke smiled, picked at a loose piece of skin on her thumb. “When do you think you’ll go back to work?” 

“Shit, probably like, tomorrow?” She held her hand up before the blond could say anything. “I know, I know. But I can’t afford to be away any longer. Honestly, the only reason they’re letting me keep the job is because they’re legally obligated to. I don’t want to push it and ask for additional time.” 

“Well you have my number. Text me as soon as you’re out?”

“Obviously. I’ll give you updates every hour and you can have a novel to read by the time you’re out.” 

Clarke laughed, getting up and tackling the other girl in a bear hug. 

Octavia came later that week, her presence almost  immediately noticed in the common room. One of the attendings nodding at Clarke, looking past to the girl standing with her arms crossed. 

“Hey.” She approached cautiously, unsure of whether to hug her or not, hands bunching her father's sweatshirt. The room suddenly felt colder than it was before. “You came.” 

O forced a smile. “Yeah well.” She seemed hesitant with her words, a new look on her. 

They stood there for a second before Clarke could feel the crushing weight of the silence. “Do you want to come to my room?” 

“Sure.”

It almost felt like the first time Bellamy had come to see her, but where he had been cautious, O seemed suspicious. Head turning all around, eyes scanning everything. Arms still crossed. She sat at the end of the bed immediately, eyes everywhere but on her friend.

Clarke cleared her throat, squatting by her pillow. “Thanks for coming.” 

O finally looked at her, no forced smile or words. She finally let her arms down, pulling at a loose string on the comforter, nodding. 

There was another moment of uncomfortable silence before Clarke sighed, wanting to say anything to break the tension, anything to make this better. “What do you want me to say O? Because whatever it is, I’ll say it. I’m sorry. I’ll keep saying it until you believe me, I am so sorry.” 

Octavia started crying, face still cold as stone, ignoring as the tears fell. 

“I don’t know if you’ve been talking to Bel, but I’m getting better. I don’t feel as sick, I’m trying. I don’t know what else to say. Just tell me what to say.” 

“I can’t believe I didn’t help you.” Her voice was soft, resolve finally breaking as the wall cracked. 

“What?”

“I knew something was going on, but I didn’t say anything or do anything. You could have died. I didn’t call or come because I was so mad at you, but I was just mad at me.” 

“What?” Clarke couldn’t help but repeat herself, not completely understanding what the girl was saying. 

“I knew you were sick. And I didn’t do anything. It’s my fault you almost died. You could have died, and it would have been my fault.”

“Octavia, what the fuck? That’s absolutely not true.” She reached out, pulling the girl closer, not letting go of her hand. “That’s not true. You did try to help me, and I yelled at you. I’m a fucking adult, I control my own actions.  _ You did try _ .” 

She finally locked eyes. “Not hard enough.” 

“What were you going to do? Strap me down and force feed me?” Clarke felt a nervous laugh bubble out of her. “I’m the one who did this,  _ me, not you. _ God, I wouldn’t have even known what to do if the roles were  reversed .” 

Octavia’s lips turned up a little, a genuine smile. “Yeah well, you probably wouldn’t have ambushed me and then gotten mad and given up.” 

“You’re probably right, I would have just ignored it like I do with everything else in my life.” 

The younger girl laughed then, taking Clarkes hand, hooking their pinkies. “I’m sorry too. For what it’s worth. Lincoln said I was being selfish.” 

“Again, not true.”

“No, he was right. All I could think of was how fucked up it was that I couldn’t even see it. I was so scared that you would die and all I could do was think about how it was me that couldn’t see what was happening, me that didn’t help you, when in the back of my mind _ I knew something was wrong. _ ”

Clarke wrapped her arms around O, pulling her so they were both sitting on top of her pillow. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Before my dad killed himself, he’d told me he wasn’t happy. I never told anyone. But he’d told me. Not outright, but I could see something wasn’t right. He made a joke one day, that offing himself would fix everyone’s problems. I-” Her eyes stung, blinking hard as her vision blurred. “I didn’t take him seriously. I wouldn’t have even known how. Like how do you get help for your parent? It was easier to just pretend he was okay, that there was no way he would  actually do something like that. I convinced myself. I wanted it to be true so bad. And the night before, he seemed so  _ different. _ I told myself that I should have known better that I should have done something. I pushed it down and put all the blame on my mom.” She could feel a wet spot on Octavia’s head where her tears were now collecting.

“Oh Clarke. You couldn’t have known.”

“Yeah, well neither could you. And this is a happy story because I’m okay and I’m learning and maybe I’m finally getting the help I should have gotten a long time ago.” 

O pulled back, placing both hands around her face. “You’re right. This is a happy story. Neither of us will blame  each other for things out of our control.” She held up her hand, this time Clarke linking their fingers. “Promise me. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“Only if you promise you won’t blame yourself for me.” 

“I’ve got some news for you.”

“Good or bad?” Clarke was drawing the side of Thelonious’s face, not bothering to look up at him when he addressed her, stuck on shading his glasses. 

“That depends on how you want to see it.” He cleared his throat. “Your insurance has deemed you healthy enough and has cut off your funding. You could be out of here as soon as tomorrow.” 

She finally put her pencil down, a strange knot in her stomach. “I’m getting discharged?” 

He nodded, not breaking eye contact with her. “I wish the discharging was up to the doctors and not the insurance companies, but who am I to say? How do you feel about this?” 

“I don’t know.” She didn’t. She had been at Mount Weather almost two months, it felt like a lifetime. She was used to everything; the structure and rules were comforting. Even if she hated most of them. She had done a lot of work, with food, with groups, especially with Thelonious. It felt like all of that was being ripped away from her, like she’d used her time foolishly, should have worked on harder things to be more prepared for this.

“That’s perfectly normal. I’m going to do my best to try and delay this at least a couple days. I haven’t gotten any news from your insurance yet, but as soon as I do, I’ll let you know.” 

She could only nod, her brain working fast to try and process this. 

“The good news in all of this is, I can still be your therapist when you leave. If you want. I do outpatient services as well.” 

“Oh, that’s good.” That was one rock off her chest. 

“Is there anything in  particular you’re worried about, or want to talk about  in regard to leaving?” 

She took a deep breathe, blowing it out her nose, a string of hair moving with the air. “How am I supposed to do what I do in here, out there?” 

“I think the first thing you need to ask yourself is why are you even doing what you do in here? No one’s forcing you to eat or even go to meals. Unless you’re doing it to get out of here, which judging from the few weeks we had to fight you on the meal plan, and your reaction to this, I’m guessing not.” He took his glasses off and wiped them clean. Something Clarke noticed he did a lot, especially when he needed time to think. “Everything you did in here, you did yourself. You’ve proven that you’re strong, that you’re a fighter. Keep being strong, keep fighting, because you’ve already proven you can do it.” He nodded and pushed his glasses back onto his face. “There’s no easy answer, but that’s the reality of eating disorders. Nothing about it, is easy. Remind yourself of your meal plan, remind yourself that maybe yes, you can skip snacks, but if that makes it easier to skip dinner, then you better fucking have that snack.” 

She laughed, shoulders relaxing as she went back to drawing his face. “I guess there’s no way to know until I leave, huh?” 

“There’s no way to know until you leave.” He sighed. “I have faith in you in Clarke. I know you can do it. Even if it takes some time and slip ups.” 

Thelonious had shaken her hand on the way out, reminding her that he had already scheduled an appointment for when she left. “Until next time.” 

She smiled, ripping the drawing of him out of her journal, folding it before placing it in his hands. “Until next time.”

Murphy looked like a child on Christmas, almost knocking her over as soon as she left the facility. The doors barely shut behind her before he was scooping her up. “Oh my god! It’s been too long!” 

She rolled her eyes but held him tightly. “You saw me yesterday dork.” 

“Yeah but now I get to see you whenever I want.” He put her down, taking her bags of stuff and walking away. “It’s like I just picked you up from jail.”

She laughed, following a few steps behind. “Yeah, I’m on parole Brad Pitt. I hope Julia Roberts is in your car.”

He walked up to his  vehicle , unlocking the doors. “Well, I don’t have Julia Roberts, but-”

Octavia suddenly burst from the car, an enormous smile on her face as she crashed into Clarke. “You’re out!” 

Clarke dropped her backpack, using both arms to crush O as hard as she could without hurting her. “I’m out!”

Octavia grabbed her hand, holding on just as hard as she had in the hospital, all those months ago. “Clarke. I love you so much, but if you ever pull this shit again without asking for help, I will personally end you myself. I get to be selfish now and say that  _ we _ , we didn’t go through all this just for nothing to come out of it.”

Murphy gagged. “Christ Blake, I thought threats were more Bellamy’s style.” 

O rolled her eyes. “Bellamy’s gotten soft.”

She ignored them both, pulling the girl back in for another hug. “I know. I expect nothing less.” 

They sat together in the back of Murphy’s car, ignoring his less than subtle jabs about being a taxi driver. Hands linked the entire drive. It felt different being out of the facility. Not bad,  _ just different. _ She felt like she was seeing everything for the first time, not remembering there being so many trees, snow still covering the ground. Each street and turn like a brand-new memory locked into her mind. She almost didn’t notice when they pulled up, startling when the doors unlocked. 

Bellamy wasn’t there when O unlocked the door for her, each of them hauling bags of dirty laundry and endless sheets of group papers.  _ Clarke had kept everything. _

“Everyone’s wants to throw a party, but I said I’d ask you first.” Murphy threw her stuff near the couch, plopping down in her old seat, his feet laying over the arm rest. 

“Don’t let him fool you, he already scheduled it for Saturday.” O’s voice rang from the kitchen, a cupboard opening and closing.

“Hey! I was giving her an option here!” 

She sighed, shoving his feet as she hauled her stuff to her room. “Fine with me, I miss everyone. But please don’t invite the entire town, okay? Just the OG’s.” 

“Look at you with your fancy facility slang!” 

She flipped him off before shoving her door open. Everything was different but eerily the same. Bellamy had told her he’d cleaned up some, all her blankets folded on the bed, clothes hanging back up, even the books on her table were stacked in order, spines all facing the same way. It even smelled different, but she knew it had always been this way, she just hadn’t been here. She had torn some of the bags open, trying to stack the papers in some form of order when her bedside table vibrated. The phone she had stuffed in the kitchen drawer forever ago, sitting plugged in. Her hand reaching for it before she decided against, sitting on her heals and calling Octavia.

“What’s good?” The girl was in the doorway in a heartbeat, like she had been  waiting for Clarke to call.

“Can you check my phone? I know it’s dumb but, can you just erase all the conversations?” 

O smiled, side stepping the piles of papers before unplugging the phone. “Smart thinking, you definitely don’t want to see all the dumb shit that happened in the group text. It’s literally just Monty gushing about Miller, I hope I was never that annoying with Lincoln. Do you want me to get rid of all the conversations?” 

She shook her head. “There should be an unknown number, don’t delete that one. Or the ones from you and Bellamy.” 

O smirked, typing a few things before handing the phone back. She pulled her own phone out, sending a message that immediately vibrated in Clarke’s hand. “There, now you’re back in the group without all the dumb shit.” 

The blonde glanced at her phone, seeing a billion texts from an unknown number, followed by the most recent one from O at the top of the list. 

O!!!

** Our girl is back <3 **

Murphy and Octavia stayed with her long after she had finished putting her stuff away, finished showering off the facility. She had wanted to put her dad's sweatshirt on, but it smelled too much like Mount Weather, wanted to put on real clothes but a part of her was scared they wouldn’t fit, or worse,  _ they would. _ She snuck into Bellamy’s room, found an old pair of his sweats, his favorite hoodie that smelled exactly like him. Enjoying how big the clothes were on her. Pretended she couldn’t see the weird look O and Murphy shared.

She joined them eventually on the couch, not bothering to point out that they could go home. She knew they wouldn’t. She didn’t feel fragile anymore, didn’t feel like the wind could blow her over or make her cry. But they didn’t know that. Clarke didn’t blame them for staying, it was comfortable having someone else in the small apartment.  So she curled next to Murphy, let the lull of their voices combined with whatever movie they were watching drag her to sleep. 

Someone slammed a cabinet in the kitchen, the noise startling her awake. Her head snapping off the couch, neck stiff from the position. Bellamy Blake was rummaging around the kitchen, a couple pans out as he kept searching for something, Clarke tiptoeing silently to the edge of the wall that separated the two rooms, leaning against it and crossing her arms, watching as he boiled some water. 

In a way, she felt like she’d never left, hadn’t been gone for two and a half months. It felt like she’d woken up from a long dream, like it could have been the next day, but it wasn’t. Bellamy still looked the same, so did the apartment. She didn’t though

Watching as he groaned, leaning his forehead against the cabinets, she smirked and spoke. “You’re not very quiet.” 

He twitched, head snapping back to look at her, smile spreading across his face. “You’re awake.” He left his position, scooping her up from her spot in a big hug, cheek pressing the side of her head. “I’m sorry.” He dropped her just as quickly, stepping back. Clarke unsure if he was apologizing for waking her or something else. “I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

She enjoyed his touch, let it linger on her skin after he’d pulled away. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have to get used to not sleeping through my afternoons again anyway.” She watched him stir something, clinking a spoon against a pot a couple  times . Curiosity finally getting the best of  her. “What are you making?” 

“I’m trying to make my mom's spaghetti recipe. I started the noodles too late and now the sauce is ready and-” He glanced at her as she stepped closer, face contorting, eyebrows scrunching together. “Are you wearing my clothes?” 

She opened her mouth to lie, but something about the moment felt too innocent. It felt like a do-over, pure and clean. She couldn’t ruin or tarnish it; she didn’t even want to. Not with Bellamy.

_ “Why does it matter? It’s not relevant to right now.”  _ Clarke tried to keep the annoyance off her face, forcing herself to remain  neutral .

Dr.  Jaha had twirled the pen in his hand, studying her.  _ “Maybe, maybe not. You didn’t just decide one day you would stop eating, something-” _

_ “But I did! You’re not hearing me. I’m not some poor abused girl who’s coping through starvation. I literally forgot and then it felt good and then I just kept going and then I was too tired to stop.”  _

_ “I don’t think you understand the  _ _ amount _ _ of shit someone has to go through, to get to a point where they decide starvation is the only way through.”  _

Clarke had stopped at that, chewing over his words. 

_ “So maybe you were tired, but maybe you had been tired for a long time.” _

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she kept her mouth firmly  closed , looking at him hard for a good minute before blinking and staring out the window. 

_ “Eating disorders are riddled with secrecy and shame and guilt and all kinds of nasty enemies, whether you realize it or not. A step towards recovery is being more open and honest. Even if it hurts.”  _

She sighed, rolling her eyes before glancing back at Thelonious. _ “ _ _ So _ _ you want me to what, bare my soul to you?” _

_ “No, I just want you to try and be more truthful. One little ‘I already ate.’ can turn into restriction, just like that.” _ He snapped his fingers for emphasis.  _ “I know I’ve said it over and over, but this is important. You’re not like everyone else and fooling yourself into thinking otherwise could be deadly. Yeah, sure, everyone misses a meal here or there, but when you get into the habit of pretending that what you’re doing isn't detrimental, isn't going to kill you, that’s when it becomes more than  _ everyone else . _ ” _ The man leaned back suddenly, rubbing his eyes and sighing. _ “Did that make sense?”  _

_ “You’re saying I’m special. I’m flattered Dr.  _ _ Jaha _ _.”  _

_ “Can it, smartass.”  _ He smiled, his turn to roll his eyes. 

_ “I get it, I need to be more honest. But you also  _ _ have to _ _ understand I can do that without giving you every detail of my life. Being honest doesn’t mean telling you all my secrets.” _ She held her hand up when he went to speak.  _ “And don’t you dare say ‘we’re only as sick as our secrets.’ That’s some Lifetime bullshit if I ever heard it.” _

He pursed his lips, nodding slowly. _ “Okay, let me ask you one last question then.” _

She tightened the sweatshirt around her, waving him on.

_ “What would be so bad if you did? If you told me?” _

She looked back outside, watched as a couple of flakes fell from the trees, the ground blinding bright from the  sun's reflection on the snow. 

_ “What would be so bad if you told me?”  _

Bellamy was looking at her expectantly. Giving her time to answer. 

“I was afraid at how my clothes would fit. Or not fit. I don’t know.” She would have felt dumb if it was anyone besides him. “I’ll wash them, I promise. I should have asked, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. If it helps you, -” He faltered a bit, going back to stirring something. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.” He cleared his throat, smile returning to his face again. “So, when’s the big coming home party?” 

She smiled back, hopping onto the opposite counter to watch him, pulling his sweats up her hips. “Soon. Murphy’s finding a day everyone's free. Probably on Saturday or sometime next week.” 

He nodded and suddenly the world kept turning, her little world continued, and for once, Clarke felt like she was turning with it. 

It was easy after that, they had dinner together, Clarke eating everything on her plate, Bellamy beaming the entire time. She had glared at him as they put the dishes away, a smile still trying to pull at her lips. “Don’t pretend like you’re some proud parent of a toddler just stomaching her first solids.” He had rolled his eyes, but the smile remained. It made her feel an odd sense of pride. 

The first morning of being back was weird. Clarke woke up wondering why the orderlies hadn't come to take her vitals, a moment passing before she realized she was in her own bed, her own apartment, the sun not yet risen.  _ So much for sleeping in _ . She got up ten minutes later, slipping Bel’s sweats back on, finding the discarded hair tie and scrunching them so they didn’t fall off, shuffling to the kitchen to start some eggs and toast. It was Bellamy’s turn to sneak up on her, the dark-haired boy popping up next to the fridge as she finished putting the eggs on their plates. “Jesus, warn a girl next time.” 

He chuckled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You’re up early.” 

She handed a plate to him, sliding past with her own to the couch. “Still on Mount Weather time I guess.”

He’d come and sat next to her, poking his eggs so the yellow ran over, producing a bottle of ketchup from somewhere. “Any plans for today?” 

She swallowed the bite in her mouth. “You sound like my therapist. Not really. Got to get my meds filled. Probably hunt for a new job. Can’t imagine Polis is  very happy with me.”

He dropped his fork, covering his eyes. “Shit! I knew there was something we forgot to do.” 

She laughed, bumped his shoulder with hers, kept it there. “Don’t worry, I would have quit anyway.” She pushed her eggs around a bit, glancing at the boy. “What about you? Are you on watching Clarke duty today?”

He chuckled. “O tried to recruit me, but I declined. The pay’s kind of shit to be honest.” 

She tried not to look at him when she felt him pull away, placing a noticeable amount of distance between their bodies. The cold between them making her want to shiver. “Do you have work today?” 

“Nah, I took off the rest of the week.” 

She pinched a piece of bread in one hand, dabbing at the running yolk, swallowing the question at the tip of her tongue. _ For me? _ Nodding instead as she pushed the mushy toast past her lips. They ate the rest of breakfast in silence, Clarke pretending she could still feel his warm body next to hers. Sometime after the plates had been put away, he offered her a blanket because she couldn't stop shivering. 

Even though he wasn’t on Clarke duty, Bellamy followed her around all week, still driving her places, hanging out with her in the living room, her applying to new jobs, messaging advisers at the university, him reading his old poetry books, getting up every now and then making them tea, lunch, dinner. Still placing a distance between them. She’d kept his clothes, wearing them around the house. Wanted to ask him for something else, wondered if he would mind if she got more clothes. But things felt off. She wondered if it was just her. It was comfortable, but something wasn’t right. Bellamy seemed jumpy, suddenly lost in his phone in the middle of their conversations, causing Clarke to falter out, pretend what she’d said wasn’t important anyway. It was fine, she’d probably done the same thing to O and Murphy, maybe even Bellamy. It didn’t keep her heart from stuttering when it happened, stomach clenching a little. 

“It’s like I offended him or did something bad, but I don’t know what.” She was back in Thelonious’s office, a weird sense of nostalgia from being back on Mount Weather property. “It feels weird, it sucks.” 

“Huh. What’s with the attire?” 

She was wearing a striped skirt that fell to her ankles, that hadn't seen the light of day in three years. The elastic band around the top giving her an odd sense of comfort, a hoodie she’d taken off Murphy from a party two years ago and never given back. She looked like she’d robbed the dumpster behind Urban Outfitters, everything hanging off her and flowing. “Really?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never seen you wear a skirt.” 

“Yeah well my wardrobe is limited currently. Can we get back to the other thing?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is your wardrobe limited?” 

“You suck you know that?” 

Thelonious huffed a laugh. “ So I’ve been told. Are you going to answer my question or play avoidance?” 

She glared. “Because you didn’t just derail my topic?” 

“Touche.” He pushed his glasses up a bit. “Alright, tell me about the clothes and I’ll tell you my thoughts on Bellamy.” 

“Lousy deal.” She pulled at the skirt, an odd feeling at having her legs so exposed in the winter. “I don’t think my other clothes will fit.” 

“What about the stuff you had here?” 

“You mean the same pair of leggings and sweats in rotation? Yeah, a perfect style selection, I loved looking like Kanye West season two.” 

“Have you tried your old clothes?” 

“ No, I haven’t and I’m not going to, so can we get onto other things already?” 

Thelonious blinked a few times, scribbled something in his notebook before closing it and leaning back in his seat. “Alright, let’s talk Mr. Blake.” He rubbed the spot on his nose where the glasses pinched him. “Have you tried just asking him what’s going on?” 

“We don’t have that kind of relationship.” 

“But you’re friends. He visited you every day in here.” 

“Yeah but it’s different.” 

“Different how?” 

She shrugged; a twinge of annoyance sparked inside her.  _ She should have stuck to clothing. _ “I don’t know. We were fine before, we were fine in here, but now somethings changed. It’s like we went from best- good, good friends, to just friends, even acquaintances.” He hadn’t hugged her since she first came back, wouldn’t sit close to her, always stuck to safe topics. It was like he was tiptoeing around her. “It’s like he’s tiptoeing around me. But worse because he’s acting like he doesn’t even know who I am.” 

“How would you describe your relationship with Bellamy?”

“Okay CSI, what do you mean by that?” 

He smirked. “You say you guys were really good friends, did you two ever date?” 

“What? No. He hated me when we first met, we barely even  _ became _ friends, after literal years.” 

“Okay, how about this. Think of how you are with your other friends, now think of how you are with Bellamy. What’s the difference?” 

Clarke thought for a moment. She’d always known Bellamy was pretty, she used to be intimidated by him, how big he was, his knowledge on everything. She used to hate him too, hate the fact that if Octavia left her, she’d always have him, but Clarke would have no one. Her budding crush on his looks had always harbored inside of her, she wasn’t dumb, he was attractive. She just didn’t want to be like everyone else, didn’t want it awkward in their friend group. And then he’d opened his mouth and made it easy for her to turn her want to annoyance. That alone made her act different with him, she’d always been careful with what she’d said, only touched him the way she could justify touching Murphy, touching Octavia. But she had always lingered. Still, she knew why she acted like she did, what she needed to know, is why Bellamy acted the way he did. “You’re no help.” 

Thelonious chuckled, sliding his notepad into his seat. “I never claimed to be a miracle worker.”

Raven was leaning against a jeep in the parking lot when Clarke walked out of the Mountain. The girl kicking off the hood and running towards the blonde, crushing her between strong arms. “Hey, there’s my warrior!” 

Clarke groaned, pulling back to get a good look. “Wow, you look good.” 

Raven did a twirl, showing off business clothes, a badge ID still swinging from her neck. “Freshly off from work. I probably smell like chemicals and depression.” 

She laughed and they were off. The jeep turning through the streets of  Arkadia as they made their way to the coffee place she normally occupied with Murphy. She even ordered a muffin with her coffee, the other girl nodding and lifting her cup in approval.

“How’s work been?”

“Oh god Clarke, tell me where not doing small talk.” 

“Alright,  how's the cutting?” 

"There’s that Mount Weather realism!” Raven laughed, letting her hair out of its ponytail, tucking her badge inside her bag. “Well, so far so clean. I can’t say everything’s back to normal but normal for me is bad, so I guess this is good.” She shrugged, sipping her hot chocolate. “How about you? What’s with the circus costume?”

“Christ, you’re like the third person to question me about it.”

“Well it’s. _ Very different _ .” 

“I’m too scared to put on my old clothes, and definitely too scared to put on my small clothes.” 

“Ah, hence the elastic.”

“Hence the elastic.” 

“You know no one will notice but you, right? Like I see you now, at whatever weight you are, you’re still the same as when I first saw you. The only difference to me is that you look a lot happier than your first day at the Mountain. Your small clothes don’t fit, so what? That was the point of treatment. Even if your old clothes don’t fit, it doesn’t matter. Clarke you don’t have to be the same size you were five years ago, one year ago, _ one month ago _ . Bodies are meant to change.”

Clarke gave a tentative smile, hands drumming on her coffee cup. “You’re a lot more helpful than Thelonious sometimes.” 

“I know, you should pay me.”

She rolled her eyes. Taking a deep breath. The café was  busier than usual, all the tables around them filled with people on laptops, people reading books or stuck in their own conversations. No one was paying attention to the two girls. “I’m going back to school.” 

“Gangster! For psych?”

She nodded. “Changed my major and everything. Luckily, I’ve already taken most of the classes needed but I have a few classes I’ll have to restart from scratch.” 

“That’s dope Clarke. Have you told anyone else?” 

“No not yet. And speaking of everyone else, before I forget, do you want to come to my ‘Out of the loony bin’ party?” 

The girl sat back, flipping her sunglasses out and putting them on in one swift motion. “Bitch if my name isn’t Raven fucking Reyes.” 

Bellamy drove them to Murphy’s house. The car more silent than usual, Clarke pulling at her overalls, refusing to be the one to acknowledge what was happening. They pulled into the driveway, space for once for his truck. 

They were silent entering the house, Bel going off to another room as soon as his stuff was set down.

Octavia pulled her into a hug as soon as she walked in. “Why so glum chum?” 

“Do you know what’s going on with your brother?” 

O’s face faltered a bit. “What do you mean?” 

“ Never mind .” She tucked a strand of hair back into its bun, hands needing to fidget with something. “Who’s all here?” 

The question was answered for her when a slew of people came running to the front door. Murphy followed close by Jasper and Monty who was holding hands with Miller, Raven pushing her way passed Echo followed closely by Lincoln. 

“Woah, hey guys!” 

“Clarke! Your friends are crazy!” Raven managed her way to the front, a giant smile on her face, sticking herself to the girl in her second hug. 

“I resent that. We like to call ourselves eccentric.” Murphy wrapped his arms around her as she was passed down the line. “Okay fine, we’re fucking crazy.” His voiced lowered a bit as he whispered. “Dude you didn’t tell me psycho chicks were so hot.” 

She punched his shoulder a bit harder than she meant too, laughing at his hurt look as Jasper and Monty enveloped her next, Miller standing back and giving her a nod. Echo’s lean arms found her next, and  last but not least Lincoln. 

She stood back and looked at everyone. “You actually stuck to the chosen few?” She  addressed Murphy, O’s hand in hers, Raven standing close by. 

“I can do what I’m told.” 

Octavia snorted. “After we reminded you a billion times.”

“On occasion, Jesus Christ. This isn’t grilling Murphy hour, let's get wasted!” The group followed him to the living room, already an assortment of booze and food laying around the room. “Where’s old Blake?” 

"Don’t ever call me old again.” Bellamy popped up behind them, a beer already in his hands. Echo sneaked over to him, placing her hand in his. He wouldn’t make  eye contact with Clarke.

That didn’t stop her from seeing the look Murphy shared with O. She knew there was something they weren’t saying but the party continued, and everyone joined in joking and laughing, she almost forgot about the odd feeling pit in her stomach.

“Did you ever get the booty shot?” 

“Jasper! You can’t ask shit like that.” Monty threw a grape at the boy. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

Raven laughed, taking a swig of her soda. “Mount Weather’s not that bad. I don’t they think they booty shoot anyone. They do take you to a ‘seclusion room’ if you get too out of hand.” 

“Wicked.” Jasper grinned, a look on his face saying he was soaking up every word. “Did you ever go to the seclusion room?” 

“Jasper!” Monty’s voice was drowned out by both Clarke and Raven laughing.

“Yeah, a couple times. If there’s any place to lose control like that, it’s in an  environment like that. I kept telling Clarke to let go and throw a fit, but she never did.”

“I almost regret it now.” The blond picked at O’s pizza, the other girl not even batting an eye as her food was stolen. “But getting man handled against my will, doesn’t seem like a good time.” 

“I beg to differ. Did you see the biceps on Roan? God, ten out of ten that man was.” She pretended to faint, causing Clarke to smirk and roll her eyes.

They had been hanging on the couches for a good thirty minutes, passing food and drinks back and forth, both her and the dark-haired girl denying alcohol.  _ “I’m not supposed to with my meds.” _ Raven had told a flustered looking Murphy. _ “Fuck if I knew, I wouldn’t have brought it out.” _ _ “Don’t worry, other people can have fun, I can control myself.” _ And she’d clinked her cola to his beer. Clarke pretended she was in solidarity with Raven, but honestly, she didn’t want to be drunk, didn’t see a need to alter this moment in any way. She wanted to remember it forever. And then she looked around the room and saw Echo leaning on Bellamy. It wouldn’t have been unusual, but something in the movement made the girl stare. It reminded her of how he’d once acted with her. They were sitting on one of the couches, away from everyone else. The moment looked private, Echo leaning up to whisper something in the boy’s ear.

For a moment, Clarke felt like she was in a movie, the comical moment where time stands still and you can hear your heartbeat, your breath getting stuck while the world settles on your shoulders. No matter how hard she tried, she knew he saw the look on her face, the split second where the action hit her like a car before she snapped a too big smile on, whipping her eyes away. Everything picked up momentum again, the atmosphere still light, everyone  making an effort to continue things the way they had been. She was proud of herself for how jovial her voice sounded when she answered something Miller had asked her, how put together she felt when someone wolf whistled at Echo and Bel, O and Raven forming a tight circle around her as they scooted closer. Like their bodies would be enough to shield and protect her from what she had seen.  _ Like she needed that _ . And the night continued, Jasper starting a round of PUBG on Murphy’s console, an open beer spilled on one of the couches. Suddenly she had an excuse, Clarke bouncing up faster than anyone else.

“I’ll go get  towels .” 

She knew Murphy had followed her to the kitchen. “Are you my babysitter tonight?” 

He yawned. “Please, as if. Just wanted to make sure you remembered where all the cleaning stuff was.”

“That’s the dumbest excuse you could come up with?” She reached under the kitchen sink, pulling the needed things, waving them in front of him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Old habits die hard huh?” 

“Did you know?” 

“Kind of.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if their exclusive, he talked about her a few times. Brought her around while you were in the Mountain. We didn’t know if it would last or not.”

“We?”

“Shit, if I’m going  down, I’m dragging literally everyone else with me.” 

“Great.  So, I was the last one to find out?” 

He hummed. “What does that say?” 

“That he still doesn’t think of me as his friend.” 

“God, you’re dumb.” 

“Thanks. How else am I supposed to take this?” She leaned on the counter, flashing back to the last time they had a conversation about the Blake in his kitchen. “I feel like that’s something you tell a friend.” She looked past the boy, the hallway echoing everyone's screams and laughter. “I can’t believe he never said anything. Even at the Mountain.” 

Murphy just shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what to tell you. No one knows what’s going on in that idiots head.”

“You’d tell me, right?” 

“What do you mean?”

She took a deep breath, twisting the cleaning bottle in her hand. “If something big happened with you, good or bad, you’d still tell me, right?”

“You dummy.  Of course I would, why would you even ask?” 

“I don’t want you to think I’m too fragile or some shit. I can still handle life, maybe even better now.” 

“Fuck, is that what you think he did?” 

It was her turn to shrug. “I just don’t want you to think you have to tiptoe around me. I’m still me.” The boy came over and rested his head on top of hers. For the first time in a while she felt the tears biting at her, the sharp sting of holding them back was an effort. But she could be strong, she just said she was.  So she blinked hard, grabbing Murphy’s hand as she marched back into the party, grinning from ear to ear. 

She had been his acquaintance, his rival, maybe even his friend, but this new spot she found herself with Bellamy was by far the worst one. She didn’t feel like she lived in the apartment, but this time he wasn’t there to comfort her, their run ins awkward and strained. Often Echo trailing behind him. He didn’t say anything, so she didn’t say anything. At night she would pretend they were still friends, close her eyes in bed and imagine he was there, listening to her. It wasn’t enough, but if she tried and thought and hoped, he would end up in her dreams. Waking up and losing him all over again almost hurt even more, but it was something. And that something was better than nothing. 

Sometimes she could still feel the ghost of his touch when she woke up, eyes firmly shut, hand tracing where she last felt him, hoping, praying she could hold onto it. But it always faded away. Clothes brushed her skin, the day continued, and the earth kept turning. Bellamy’s touch a distant memory. 

She liked him. More than she wanted to admit. In a strange way, like her father’s sweatshirt, he had grown on her, meaning more to her now than ever. In almost the same way, it felt like she’d lost him, had him in her grasp and then misplaced him. It was weird, especially because she saw him almost every day, but it wasn’t the same,  _ he wasn’t the same. _ All she could do was pretend. 

“So how  goes it?” Thelonious was misting his plants, an array of  succulents now hoarded on his desk.

“As fine as it can be, I guess.” 

“How are you finding  mealtimes ?”

“Well, it’s a lot harder eating the right stuff when you’re the one preparing it for yourself.” Clarke slumped farther into his couch. “I skip snacks probably more than I should, but I think I’ll live.”

He chuckled. “Yeah that tends to happen. Even I struggle to eat three square meals and snacks a day. You’re still trying though?”

She sighed. “Yes, I’m still trying.” 

“That’s all that matters then.” He set down his mister, pushing his glasses up and coming to sit in front of the girl. “How’s everything else going?” 

“I had my coming home party on Saturday. Raven went.”

“How was that?” 

“It was great. I’m glad everyone got along well.” She was picking at her nails, a stretch of silence before she opened her mouth again. “Bellamy went. And I think I know maybe why he’s been acting weird.” 

Thelonious gave a sigh, nodding. “And?”

“And, I’ve realized I like him. And now it’s too late. And it sucks.”

“Why do you think it’s too late?” 

Her shoulders went up and down. “I thought, that maybe-” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m sick, and he. He seems like he’s moved on with his ex.” 

“But you’re getting better.”

“And he’s still with Echo and he’s still ignoring me. Was I dumb to think maybe he liked me? I went over and over the things he said and did. I don't know, it just seemed too intimate to be a _ just friends _ thing. And now I have all of that, and how nice and amazing he was to me, and I feel like it was just snatched away from me. He hardly talks to me now. I mean I could have handled it, if he was still my friend through all this, but he’s not.” Against her will, she could feel a tear slip out. “And I thought maybe everything he did, meant he liked me, right? Because now that he has a girlfriend, he’s different. But maybe he was just being nice because I was sick. And now we go back to how things were before. And I don’t think I can handle that.” Another tear slipped out, then another. “ It sound’s dumb, but I had really grown used to what we had. And now I don’t know where we stand. I wouldn’t even know how to talk to him about it because it sounds desperate.” She smiled at the man, a tear dripping from her nose. “I just miss him, you know?” 

_ “What’s wrong?” Bellamy was stroking her hair, the tears had yet to cease.  _

_ “I don’t know. I think I lost something.”  _

_ “Do you want me to help you find it?”  _

_ She sat up but remained close to him, almost on his lap. “No, just stay here.” _

_ He smiled, not quite reaching his eyes, pulling her in. “I can do that.”  _

_ They were in the backseat of a  _ _ car; _ _ it was dark outside. She didn’t know who was driving. “Where are we going?”  _

_ He looked out the window. “Don’t you know?”  _

_ She looked past him to the outside, the stars so bright it was comical, the sky was a dark shade of purple. Maybe they weren’t driving after all but floating somewhere. She couldn’t see the ground, just miles of stars in dark purple clouds.  _

_ Bellamy turned back to her, grabbing her hands, kissing each of them once, reaching over and placing feather light kisses on her eyelids. He rested his  _ _ forehead _ _ against hers. “In peace may you leave this shore. In love may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels. Until our final journey on the ground.”  _

_ Her heart started beating faster. She looked at her hands, they were slim, boney. When she caught her reflection, she looked like a skeleton, her hair thin and frail, breastbones showing through her shirt. “Bellamy what’s happening? Am I dead?” But she already knew the answer. _

_ The car slowed down, her door opening into an endless nothing. _

_ He placed his hand over her heart, she could see tears in his eyes as he slowly kissed her. “May we meet again.”  _

Clarke woke with a start, her mind spinning as she took in her surroundings. She placed her hand over her heart, the beating erratic. She could almost feel where he had touched her. It was light enough that when she removed her hand, held both out in front of her. They looked normal, like her hands, flesh between them, she couldn’t see the bones. Part of her wanted to be back in the dream, longed to feel him close to her. But she pulled the blankets back and got up, bones popping as she stretched and got dressed. It was barely eight when she made it to the kitchen, unaware if he was there or not. She still got her plates out silently, gently putting things down as she went from cupboard to stove. The apartment eerily quiet as she turned the stove on, set the kettle down. She almost missed when everyone was hovering over her, at least then she wasn’t alone with her thoughts. 

Clarke made her oatmeal on autopilot, knowing if she was fully there, she would have skipped breakfast, her stomach contracting and growling as she shoveled the substance inside her. But she still did it, even washed the dishes right after she was done. And then she was left with nothing but to wait and sit around. She missed days off when she was at University, longed for days she could wake up knowing she could stay in bed however long she wanted. But now it was almost unbearable. Her days stretching, hours going by of her just sitting on the couch and staring at nothing. She felt useless. School wouldn’t start for a while; she had just missed the deadline for the Spring semester. A part of her was scared to look for a job, so she hadn’t. She had tried to backpay Bellamy for rent, but he had shaken his head and said someone had already paid.  So she went to Murphy and made sure he took the money, stuffing it in his wallet when he wasn’t looking. She still had plenty from her dad. For now.

“What are you going to do?”

“Shit. I don’t know.” Clarke leaned against Raven, setting her drink down in the grass. They were at the park, Raven shoveling her homemade lunch, thirty minutes left of her break. “What can I do?”

Raven talked around her forkful of macaroni salad. “You could tell him  what's up.”

She shifted her weight, pulling her knees to her chest. “Yeah, ‘Hey Bel! I’ve discovered I really like you, now that you’ve seemingly moved on and I’ve become damaged goods.’ Sounds like a full proof plan.” 

The other girl shoved at her. “Dumb. Not like that. And you’re not damaged goods. Literally everyone has their own shit, you were just brave enough to go and get yours fixed.” She finished off her food, placing the lid back on the box and stuffing it in her comically sized bag. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he likes you back.”

Clarke’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, I should just get into a relationship too! That’ll show him for sure that I want him.” 

Raven rolled her eyes. “You don’t know they’re actually together. My platonic friends never did what he did. Especially my platonic guy friends. I mean, the way I saw him act with you at the Mountain? Only my past exes did shit like that.”

“He may as well be my ex with the way he’s been acting.” Raven went to open her mouth before the blond cut her off with a wave of her hand. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m literally asking for help and refusing it. I guess I don’t want to do anything. If he doesn’t feel the same, or this changes stuff.” She shook her head, looking out over the grass. “I don’t want to a see a world where he’s not in it. Even if he’s just my friend.”

“But he’s not your friend now. How could it get worse?” 

Even though Clarke shrugged her shoulders, a million things were running in her mind. He had stopped talking  _ with  _ her, but he still talked _ to _ her. He still said hey when he saw her, nodded his head as he slipped in and out of his room. Sometimes he’d bring her leftovers from the Dropship, comment on something she’d said in their group chats. She lived for those moments, like the only time she could take a breath of real air was when he bestowed his attention on her. She knew it wasn’t healthy, that she had almost become codependent, but it was better than nothing, even if it almost hurt more than nothing. 

Eventually, Lincoln had told her there was a job at the library that he worked at. She had applied, and with a good word from the tall man, had gotten the job. She spent her days shuffling around the fiction section of an old building, placing things where they belonged, wrapping books and sticking tags on them. It was nice, peaceful, always quiet save for the beeping of the machines, the whooshing of automatic doors. O would come sometimes, eating lunch with her and Lincoln, sometimes it would be Raven or Murphy. It was steady and consistent, and she held onto it harder than anything else in her life. The days passed, turning into weeks, turning into months. School was around the corner and she hadn’t told anyone else besides Raven that she was going back. She figured they would figure it out, but everyone was busy now. Murphy starting his own clothing brand, buying a whole store in town, busy with hiring and setting up. Jasper and Monty the only ones still in school, taking classes through the summer. Octavia and Raven both busy with work. Even though she hadn’t seen much of Echo, she saw even less of Bellamy now, he’d taken even more shifts at the Dropship, often crashing at Murphy’s since it was closer. And the gang still got together whenever they could, but someone was always missing. 

Clarke almost felt normal now, she ate when she was hungry, and she sometimes skipped breakfast, but she always made up with lunch or dinner. Her old clothes didn’t completely fit, but she could wear most of them, use a belt on the ones that sagged.  _ Everything was almost normal. _

“In medicine, sometimes things happen like a Surge, at school they called it a Rally Before Death. No one really knows why or how it happens but suddenly, someone who’s terminally ill or sick, will get healthy and be fine. They’ll walk and talk and act like they weren’t on deaths door. But that only lasts a bit, and then after that their body gives up. That’s what I feel like is happening to me. After the Mountain, I had a surge. I felt good, I stuck to my meal plans. But slowly, my body feels like its dying. I almost feel worse before now than when I was starving. How is that possible?” 

Thelonious nodded. “Treatment centers often treat the disease, not the person. There are still reasons to why you stopped eating, and now that you’re not using that as a coping skill, these reasons come to the top.”

“I don’t even know the reasons. I don’t have a logical reason for why I feel like this.” Clarke chewed the inside of her mouth, the room suddenly feeling colder. 

“You don’t always need a logical reason. Sometimes we just feel bad.” 

“How do I stop? I go to work, and I’m okay, I eat, and I’m okay. I function. But every now and then I’m hit with something so strong I just want to cry. I’m not depressed, I feel lonely, which also doesn’t make sense, I hang out with my friends all the time. I feel like I lost something, or something was taken from me.”

“Depression doesn’t always have the same signs. Are you still taking your meds?”

She nodded.

“Maybe we need to look at changing them or upping the dose.” 

She nodded again, anything to keep the tears off her face. 

“You said you felt like something was taken from you.” 

She flashed back to the dream she had months ago, something that was always still inside her. “Yeah. Like the reason I’m sad is because I lost it. I just don’t know what it is.”

“Does anything make the feeling go away or feel better?” 

“Sometimes I forget. I hang out with my friends, and the feeling goes away, if I’m busy or at work. Sometimes it’s gone for a long time. But it always comes back in a dream, I’ll wake up feeling it.” 

She zoned out to the rest of his words, nodding when she needed too. It wasn’t till she got  home, her mind constantly on that feeling, that she could pin down what it was. It was loss, in a way. She had the same feeling after her dad died. 

Clarke put her stuff down, didn’t care if Bellamy was home or not as she curled on the couch, pulling the piles of blankets on top of her as she finally let the tears slip out. She missed her dad. She missed Bellamy. She felt like she didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to either. Bellamy had slipped through her hands just like her dad, one minute he was there, hugging her and telling her how amazing she was, and the next. Clarke didn’t want to think of him as dead, but that’s what it felt like. Like he’d taken his life and hadn’t let her say goodbye. It was a morbid thought that she pushed out of her head as soon as it appeared. She mourned like he was gone though, letting her tears finally lull her to sleep. 

_ She was back in the car with him. It was darker outside; she couldn’t see the stars this time. He was holding her hand; the same sad smile adorned his face. “Where are we going?”  _

_ “Where did you tell them to go?” _

_ Clarke looked passed the seats, there was a visor blocking the front from the back. She still couldn’t see the driver. “The house I think.”  _

_ He nodded. “Then that’s where we’re going.”  _

_ They drove for a while after that, silent the whole way, hands still linked. She felt at ease. The car eventually stopped, Clarke pushing her door open and stepping out. But he stayed inside. “Aren’t you coming?” _

_ Bellamy shook his head. “I can’t.”  _

_ “Well, I want to stay with you then.” She started climbing back in. _

_ “You can’t.” He put his hand on her thigh. She could see the dark circles under his eyes, the color draining from his body before her eyes. “You don’t get it, do you?”  _

_ She grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the door. “Please. Why can’t you come with me?”  _

_ He stepped out then, leaning to kiss the top of her head. When he pulled back his face was hollow, skin falling off his body as worms started coming out of his mouth. “I’m already gone.” _

Clarke started from under the blankets, someone was shaking her shoulder, her cheek was wet, a small pool of her tears collecting in her hair and on the pillow. The blanket was pulled off her head, Bellamy leaning over her. “Am I dreaming?” Her brain was still in endless void, the vision of him dead before her almost imprinted on her eyelids. Against her better judgement she reached out, brushed the lock of hair from his face, slid her palm down his jaw. “You’re okay?” 

He smiled, hand reaching up and cupping her own. “I’m okay. Are you okay?” 

She shut her eyes, another tear slipping out. “I will be.”

He squeezed her hand, bringing it down to rest on top of the blankets. “I made dinner, I figured it was time to pay you back for all those breakfasts. It’s ready whenever you want it.” He let go, walking back to the kitchen. 

Clarke still felt like she was dreaming, not helped by the darkness that seeped into the living room, the only light coming from the kitchen. She would still take this dream over the last. If she lay there, she would fall back to sleep. Instead she got up, bunching the blankets so they made a small pile on the couch. And then she followed Bellamy. 


	6. Maybe you should know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's gonna take a bit of work  
> Oh oh, work  
> Now that you're here  
> Whoa-oh, work  
> 'Cause people come and go  
> But I think you should know  
> That I  
> I think this will work   
> -Work, Charlotte Day Wilson
> 
> Holy forking shirt balls, I am forever apologetic for the amount of time it took to get here. This may be one of my shorter chapters but more are coming, I'm actually working on them currently. <3 Thank you so much to everyone who continues to read and leave comments and kudos and everyone who's been so patient. As a fanfic reader WIPs are my kryptonite, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you for enduring.

“I don’t know what to do.” Clarke sat down, pulling her legs close, draping her sweater over her knees to keep warm. “I feel so sad and empty, like I’m not actually awake anymore, my dreams are better than this.” She vaguely waved her hand in the cold air. “The rational part of me knows I need to talk to O, or Murphy or even Thelonious. I just keep hoping it’ll get better, that if I try hard enough, and stick to a schedule and go to work and eat, that one day I’ll wake up and be okay.” There were a few people walking around, head’s bent low, flowers in their hands. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do anymore. I should just talk to Bellamy, that would be the smart thing. But I would feel like an idiot if he told me-”  _ What I already know _ . Her mind played out the rest of the words. “If he told me he was only helping me, only being my friend, because that’s what he does. And now I don’t need help anymore.  So he’s moved onto something else. But I haven’t. I didn’t realize how much I needed him, need him.” She cut the air with a dry laugh, wiping her eyes to make sure nothing came out. “Which is terribly codependent. Or dumb, or both. I can’t even imagine telling him how I feel. I can’t imagine not having him. In any way.” Clarke leaned forward, tracing the letters on the gravestone. “I miss you so much. I wish you were here to help me, to tell me what to do. You always knew what to say with Lexa. You were always right.” Her hand went over each of the dents of the words. “In peace may you leave this shore. In love may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again Daddy.”

Much to Clarke’s chagrin, life had moved on. Small blades of grass had peaked through sidewalks, flowers started blooming, the season coming, and then going as quickly as the spring storms. Life moved on, and so had mostly everyone in her group. No one watched her anymore save Octavia on certain days, Lincoln would talk and joke with her at work, and as the days continued, she found her smile was less and less fake. Raven had become busy with work, Jasper and Monty finally buckling down on schoolwork as their last semester was coming to an end. Murphy going on back to back impromptu trips to New York that left him gone for weeks on end. Even Bellamy seemed more distracted, more distant than usual, nodding his greetings the few times their paths would cross. Since everyone's schedules got harder to work with, they hadn’t had a movie night in almost two months. They still talked, still blew up the group chat in the worst times, leaving Clarke smiling against her will at the stupid things they said. But still, something inside her mourned. When someone mentioned Bellamy, when she saw him or heard of the things he was doing through other people, her heart clenched. If anyone noticed how hurt she was, they didn’t say it, and for that she was  immensely grateful . 

“Anyway, with everything going on Lincoln wants to push the trip again,” Octavia rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee before continuing. “which is dumb,  because this will be the fourth time we’ve had to push it.” 

Clarke nodded in response, more focused on getting her honey to come out of its tiny packet and into her tea. 

“But he says we have to stay for Bellamy’s dinner, so. I mean, I guess I’ll be a good sister.” 

Blond hair whipped up fast, honey dripping slightly onto Clarke’s fingers. “What dinner?” 

O gave her a look like she was out of her mind. “The one for his A? I mean, it was really Miller’s idea since he’s such a proud boyfriend.” She snickered and rolled her eyes. “But I have to say, the sentiment behind it, is very nice.” 

Clarke was still staring, mouth agape at all the words coming out of her  friends' mouth. She had to blink hard as the pressure to cry overwhelmed her, the sharp stabbing behind her eyelids warning her it was coming anyway. “What are you talking about? What dinner? What A?” 

Octavia’s smile faltered a bit as she shifted on the couch. “The, one on Friday.” She quickly set her coffee down, her hands starting to fidget with the frays in the blanket next to her. “Did he not-” she faltered for a moment, ‘tell you?” 

The other girl just shook her head,  too scared to find her voice. 

“He. Got an A in Childhood Developpement class.” When O got no reaction she kept going, her hands pulling harder on the strings. “For school. For teaching, his class for teaching.” She was stumbling over her words. “The, because he. He. He didn’t tell you anything?” 

It was so unusual to see her friend at a loss for words, the blonde could count on one hand how many times the girl had been this flustered, this  nervous . Clarke could feel her head shaking as the tears started falling. She felt like an idiot for crying over something so small, even if it was in her own apartment, even if it was with Octavia next to her. 

The girl reached out her hand, placing it on the blondes' knee. “I’m sure it just slipped his mind; both have you’ve barely seen  each other, right? He probably just didn’t have the time or.” Her voice faltered; sentence left hanging.

Clarke didn’t have it in her to tell the other girl that she’d seen him last night, that he’d made some weak excuse when she’d gotten home and had gone to his room. She just shook her head as more tears ran after another, just focused herself to stare past her friend and out the window, trying to force herself to stop, stop breathing, stop crying, stop being so upset by Bellamy’s rejection, again. 

Octavia hesitated for a second before pushing the blankets off the couch, curling up next to her friend, hands going around her middle. “I’m sorry Clarke. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. When you got out of the hospital, I tried asking him why he was being so weird, so dumb. But he wouldn’t tell me. I figured he’d gotten over it, I figured you guys had. Gone back to normal.” She whispered the last part of the sentence, her dark hair tickling Clarkes arm. “I am so, kicking his ass.” 

The girl straightened then, wiping her tears with force. “No. O, please, please promise me you won’t. Don’t say anything at all, please. I don’t want it to be awkward.”

“It already is awkward! You don’t think I’d bring it up at dinner if we’re all celebrating as friends, and you aren’t there?” 

Clarke leaned into her hand, scrunching forward so she didn’t have to make eye contact with her friend. “I thought,” She could feel the bubble of sadness rising in her again, her throat clenching over a waver. “I thought we were friends. I thought maybe he even liked me, even if only a little bit. Is that dumb?”

“No. It’s not. Everyone thought you guys were getting along great, Murphy and Jas even started a bet on when you guys would hook up.” 

She snorted, watching as a tear fell off her and landed on the couch, in the space between her thighs. “I know this sounds dumb, I know it before I even say it, but I was starting to like him, like him, like him. I grew so depended on him, which,” Laughing as she shook her head, more tears cascading down her face. “doesn’t sound healthy at all. But he was there for me, and he helped me. And now.” She couldn’t contain the crack in her voice this time. “Now I feel like he’s died. He died and cut off every piece of him I had. And I had to cry and be sad about it all by myself. Because how do I explain this? How do I tell you, that your brother makes me feel like I’ve lost my father all over again? That seeing him turn away from me, makes me want to vomit?” There was no holding back the sobs, the louder her voice got, the more she struggled getting out her sentences. “How do I say, that being that close to him for less than a year, wasn’t enough? And now I feel like I’m trash. I feel like I'm back to not being worthy of Bellamy. And I could handle it, if I knew why. I could force myself over this and move on and accept that not everyone likes Clarke Griffin, not everyone has to be nice to me. But he didn’t even tell me why!” Octavia was hugging her harder now, she couldn’t tell which one of them was shaking, maybe both. “Why won’t he just tell me why?” 

Clarke muted her texts as soon as Octavia left. Part of her wanted to confront Bellamy, demand to know why he was shunning her. The bigger part of her, knew she didn’t have it in her. Wouldn’t be able to get a word out without subsiding to tears. And as soon as she cried, she felt like the true message behind her words were lost. And she didn’t need to have a conversation with the man who would already be lost. Would already be looking at her like she was lost.  So she muted her texts, heavily tempted to leave the group chat all together. One last passive aggressive message from Octavia towards Bellamy coming through before she put it on mute. 

It wasn’t that Clarke had memorized his schedule, but with how much she had been craving to see him, be close, anything, it was normal that she had discovered his pattern, could hear his footsteps outside the apartment, know that it was him behind the key turning. It was abnormal that there were no steps that night, no key turning or awkward shuffle of belongings as he tried to hurry to his room without running into her. A part of her wanted to blame whatever Octavia had sent in the messages, knowing the girl couldn’t just let well enough alone. She knew his sister must have talked to him, yelled more like. For the first time in months, Clarke went to bed without dinner, and for the first time in a long time, she found she couldn’t care less about Bellamy. 

She called out of work the next morning, a half assed excuse to Lincoln on the phone about not feeling well as she packed her good things in a bag. She knew she was running away from her issues, causing more between her friends with the abrupt leave. But she set the letter in the kitchen anyway, she emailed Thelonious anyway, texted Octavia and Murphy anyway. Cried as she  boarded the plane anyway. 

New York was beautiful, not as warm as Arkadia, but this was a welcome comfort to the blonde who’d mainly packed sweatshirts and long sleeves. 

_ Dear Bellamy, _

The drive from the airport to Murphy's apartment was a rush, the stop and go traffic giving her plenty of time to glance between buildings, marvel at the people walking in the streets. It was almost too much, and at the same time not enough.

_ I’m sorry to leave without giving a warning. I’m sorry that things have become so strained and weird recently. I’m sorry that I haven’t been myself. Maybe not in a long time. Mostly I’m sorry for not being honest with you.  _

Clarke leaned her head against the window, couldn’t help the smile on her face as the lights turned green, then yellow, then red. The cab staying in the same spot throughout its entirety. 

_ I am so mad at you. A lot of it is unfair anger. A lot of it, is me projecting my own feelings. I haven’t said anything and stewed in my own anger till it’s become so much. Too much. But some of it is you. I thought we were friends. We were when I was sick. I thought we had something and then you stopped talking to me. It feels like you’re punishing me for something I have no idea about. You  _ _ have to _ _ know I would say sorry. That if I did know what I was doing wrong, or know what I’d done, I would have said sorry.  _

The cab started moving again, horns blaring as people rushed out of the street. There  was clouds hanging in the sky and Clarke looked forward to the first drop of rain, couldn’t wait to see what the city looked like in a deluge. 

_ I’m leaving for a while, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. I prepaid my rent so don’t worry.  _

The man in the front pulled the car to the side, “Here.” in a gruff voice before nodding towards the total  displayed on the dash. 

She paid him, struggling to pull her overpacked bag behind her. Murphy was staying in the upper east side, in a more modest looking building. Still, a doorman held the gates open for her, tipping his hat as she rushed to the  elevators . 

_ Bellamy. You made me fall in love with you, and then you cut me off without even saying goodbye.  _

She pressed the number, watching people bustle through the lobby as the doors closed and the lift dragged her up multiple flights. There was a polite ding before the doors opened, a shiny bright hallway leading her to her best friend. Clarke was almost jogging now, couldn’t wait to see him as she counted the doors to number 800. 

_ It’s not your fault that I love you. But it’s not my fault that I hurt so much.  _

Murphy opened the door after the second knock, the girls  knuckles falling into air as the boy scooped her up, screaming and laughing at the same time. 

_ I’m sorry I’m leaving without saying goodbye. And that will be the last thing I apologize for.  _


	7. I can't feel enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be the weight of us  
> I can't feel enough  
> I can't feel enough  
> To keep this wasted love  
> I can't feel enough  
> This love ain't mine  
> This love ain't mine  
> This love ain't mine  
> Dust- Haelos
> 
> Okay, this is finally winding down and coming to an end, I probably have maybe three more chapters left. As always thanks for your patience. I know this is short, but I hope you all enjoy even so. Also I literally listened to this Haelos song on repeat as I wrote this, so maybe give it a listen and see if the vibe matches lol. ALSO ALSO please don't forget this story deals with mental health issues and eating disorders. Please don't read if this is triggering for you.  
>  Happy New Year everyone, never forgive the 100 writers for the injustice they've done. xoxox

New York was the strangest place Clarke had ever been to. Almost everything was continuously opened, lights flashing throughout the night in Murphy’s apartment. People walking and dancing and running down the streets. Everything was alive, it was almost contagious. 

“I still can’t believe you’re actually here.” Murphy hadn’t stopped moving since the girl had arrived, the boy in a sustained state of jumps and jiggles, sealing himself to her side as he showed her around the place. “And I still don’t know why you’re here.” 

She feigned shock. “I can’t visit my best friend?” 

“You act like Octavia doesn’t exist.” He laughed and pulled the girl closer. They were sitting on the balcony, far up enough that the traffic below wasn’t overwhelming. Someone honked their horn and a trail of cars of answered back. 

“So why ask if you already know.” There wasn’t any ill will behind her words, but the bite could be heard. 

“Jesus, chill kid. Besides, you know she exaggerates. I want to hear it from you.” 

Clarke pulled her feet up and leaned her head against the boy. “Can we just have a good time? Can you grant me this for a little while? I just want a couple weeks without thinking about Bellamy or being worried or sad. Can I just have that? And after I’ll tell you whatever you want.” 

Murphy was kind enough to stay silent, wrapping his free arm around her. “That bad huh. Well, you can stay as long as you like. I was supposed to go back for Bel’s special dinner. But the story Octavia portrayed kind of makes me not want to.” 

“Oh, please don’t punish him for my stupid feelings. He hasn’t done anything wrong.” 

He cut off her next sentence with a harsh laugh. “Maybe I don’t know the full story but he’s being a little bitch from my point of view. He’s been ignoring you?” 

“Well not exactly, more like-” 

“Okay let me rephrase, he ended your friendship without telling you why.” It wasn’t a question this time. 

She hesitated before nodding. The words going over in her head. He ended your friendship. He ended. Ended. The word too final, even spoken from someone else. 

“He made you feel like shit, didn’t tell you anything, and had the audacity to not invite you to the dinner, even though he knows you literally make our group.” 

“He’s not a bad person. And I don’t make the group. You guys had each other long before me.” 

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that. But he’s still acting like a little bitch.” 

Clarke let out a small laugh. “I know. But I refuse to live in a world where our friend group has to pick sides. Especially when it’s over something this dumb. I never said anything, so that’s my fault. He’s a good person, just an idiot. Please go to his dinner.” 

“Are you going to?” 

“I just got here.” 

“Clarke.” 

“Murphy.” She shot right back at him. 

The boy sat up, forcing a stern gaze at the girl. He didn’t say anything, just continued to look, one arm still holding onto her. Horns blared in the streets below, the clouds continuing to gather but no drops had fallen. He settled back down, sighing as he leaned back into her. “There’s an amazing sushi place down the street, we should go for dinner.” 

Clarke’s stomach turned but she nodded anyway. 

For the next two weeks, Murphy acted like the balcony conversation had never happened. He took her all around the city, dragging her to plays and museums, forcing her to endure all the tourist stuff before showing her the more unique locations. Not once did Murphy ask her why she wasn’t responding to their group texts, and after their first day, all mentions of Bellamy were stopped. Instead, he snuck her into Roosevelt Island’s abandoned hospital in the dead of night, waving her off when she saw the daytime hours. “What’s an adventure without a little risk?” 

Clarke rolled her eyes and looked away from the Trespassers Will Be Persecuted sign. Someone had crossed out the last word, big bold letters spelling out Prostituting, instead. 

Murphy would drag her to the Lower East Side, hopping from clubs till their feet dragged through the streets, the sun barely dancing off the buildings by the time they got back on the subway, Murphy always nursing a hangover. 

He even took her to Midtown, rolling his eyes and grumbling the entire time. His face still lighting up when he showed her the buildings, walked her through Grand Central Terminal with eyes as big as Elon Musk in space. “This is such a tourist spot, but it’s a tourist spot for a reason, you know?” 

When the day of Bellamy’s dinner came, and then went, neither of them said anything. Murphy blocking the entire day, back-to-back, with things for them to do. Clarke’s feet had never hurt so much in her entire life. And she was immensely thankful. 

Day after day he took her places, and when he couldn’t, he would tell her where she should go, giving her a subway card, twenty dollars to get him a pita from the Greek place four streets over. Clarke always humoring him, even buying her own food, taking a bite before throwing it in a dumpster a block from his apartment. Holding the wrapper till she got him, making sure he watched as she dramatically licked the last of the sauce, picking a crumb off the papers and going on about the flavors. 

_“What is this?” Clarke took the item of clothing Octavia was handing to her._

_“It’s Bells._ _It_ _still has some of his memories_ _attached_ _to it.”_

_She pressed her face to the fabric, pieces of happiness hitting her, memories she never had flowing inside her. “What do we do now?”_

_O shook her head. “Not we, you. You need to tell people what happened, what actually happened.” She pointed to the article in the other_ _girls'_ _hands. “Show them if you have to. But be careful, there’s not a lot left.”_

_Clarke nodded, clutching the shirt to her chest as she broke away from the girl, continuing through the forest. It wasn’t long before she arrived to a river, Echo sitting at the edge of the crossing._

_“Echo!”_

_The other girl looked up, waving the blonde over as they studied the flowing water. It was a dark green color, mossy rocks peeking out where you could step if you were brave enough._

_“Echo, Bellamy is dead.”_

_The other girl shrugged, continuing to look at the water._

_Clarke stepped a bit closer. “Please, you need to understand what happened, it’s important.” She reached out, encouraging the other to take a hold of the shirt._

_Echo looked at her for a moment before rubbing the fabric between two fingers, a memory flashing in her eyes as she watched Bellamy Blake die, a small ‘oh’ escaping her before she let go. “I’m sorry.”_

_Clarke grasped the shirt again, pulling a memory to focus as Bellamy came alive from the fabric. The sadness was pushed down again and she nodded, turning back to the river. “Are you going to cross?”_

_“I won’t disrespect the dead.”_

_“What?” Clarke looked down, what she had first thought was rocks, were actually heads of people floating in the murky water, faces pale and eyes closed as they bobbed in the current, hair waving out in all directions. Echo was gone when she looked up, and against her better judgement, Clarke stepped across the river, silently begging for forgiveness as she continued searching for everyone who needed to know, everyone who needed to be told the truth._

_The forest got_ _darker;_ _the trees closer together as the sun began to set. Eventually she came across Miller who was looking over the edge of a steep cliff, dirt crumbling below his feet and falling into an eternal darkness._

_“Nathan.” The man looked up as she_ _approached_ _. “Nathan, Bellamy is dead.”_

_He nodded, kicking a rock and watching as it bounced off a tree and into the black nothing. “How?”_

_Clarke pushed the shirt forward, offering it to him as the memory bubbled to the surface of the fabric. Both of them watching Bellamy as he lived his last day, took his last breath. She could feel the memory in the fabric begin to fade as she took it back._

_“Thanks Clarke.” He smiled softly, looking at her once before squatting down and taking hold of a root that was sticking out of the ground._

_“Where are you going?”_

_He gestured down._

_“Why?”_

_“I need to know what’s down there.”_

_“What if you die?”_

_Miller looked at her once before hopping over the edge, body completely engulfed in the darkness. “What if I don’t?” And he too, was gone._

_Clarke knew she had to keep going, the sun had stopped going down, the forest a mysterious orange color that still seemed ominous. Instead, she sat where Miller had been, pulling the shirt closer and begging the memories to come to her, begging Bellamy to come back to her, no matter how selfish it was. When she looked at them, it was as if she was there, standing next to him as he walked around and talked to people. It was selfish to comfort herself when so many others still needed to see the truth, but she couldn’t help it._

Clarke woke up with a deep hole in her chest, pressing her hand to her heart as the tears dried on her face. She wasn’t completely awake, the dream still so close to reach that she could almost smell the ground she had been sitting on, could almost fool herself into thinking she was holding Bellamy’s shirt. 

Clarke had been there two weeks when one day, she walked out into the hall, and saw Murphy had packed his things. 

“All good things come to an end my little ravioli.” 

She wrinkled his nose at him, accepting the mug of coffee he was holding. “You’re a good thing?” 

He barked a laugh. “Honey of course not, I’m the best thing. But you knew we would have to leave eventually.” 

“I just got here though!” 

Murphy perched at the bar, arms dangling past his feet. “It’s been two weeks. You can’t avoid Arkadia forever. You can’t avoid Bellamy forever.” 

She passed the cup between hands, hating that she knew he had already put cream and sugar, hating that she didn’t even want one sip of unneeded calories. A waste. “I mean, I’m sure if I tried hard enough-” she let the sentence trail off, smiling so he knew she was only kidding. 

“I know I know. Listen I rented this place for a couple months, so technically you can stay here till the fourth. But I have to go home. And technically so do you. Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” 

Clarke hopped onto the counter next to him, setting the mug beside her. “I told him I liked him.” 

“What?!” His shout echoed in the room, leaving a ringing as they both fell silent. 

“Yeah. I wrote him a letter before I left.” She sighed when the boy stayed quiet, resting her elbows on her knees. “I haven’t told you what happened, because I don’t even know what happened. We weren’t friends, and then I was sick, and we were, and then I got better, and he left.” 

“Clarke. You know he wasn’t friends with you because you were sick right?” 

“I mean, when I say it, it sounds dumb. But that’s what happened. You can’t argue facts.” 

Murphy inhaled sharply, one hand resting on her thigh. 

“I know he has a thing for being the mom in the group. Sometimes I wonder if that’s all it was. Because he sure didn’t seem to have an issue fucking off.” 

“Since when do we value Bellamy as being smart? We all know that boy rents out the space in his head. He’s a hothead idiot half the time.” 

“I told him I liked him, and that he’d fucking hurt me Murphy. And he hasn’t even messaged me.” 

“How can he message you when your phone’s off?” 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “I know. But you know what I would have done if it was the other way around. I still check Facebook. I still talk to O. And nothing.” 

“Well, that’s not-” 

“Fair? I know.” She could feel the tears stinging her eyes, a sharp jab as the saltwater collected itself. “I know it’s not fair, don’t you think I know that? I’m done being fair though. Don’t I get a turn where I don’t have to excuse everyone all the time? Can’t I be irrational for once in my fucking life? Bellamy has been irrational and unfair almost the entire time I’ve known him. And I’ve always made excuses for him and thrown every single bone to keep him being the good guy. I don’t care anymore. And please don’t give me a lecture on how I should.” 

Murphy had just hugged her then, not saying another word. 

She poured out the coffee when he went to shower. Her hands dancing over the divot in her collar bone. 

Murphy left the next day, giving her the key to the apartment under the strict instructions she turn her phone back on and start replying to people. “How else am I supposed to take care of you?” 

She had humored him, her phone dinging to life, a barrage of messages and calls and voicemails coming through as she hugged him goodbye. 

New York wasn’t as pretty after that. Part of her missed putting on a show for Murphy, at least she was going out and doing stuff, a small part of her admitting it was fun. But now she had no one to fake for. Murphy’s food going untouched in the kitchen, the spot in the couch curving around her as she slept, day in and day out. Responding to Murphy and Octavia and even Raven when she reminded herself. She would watch the sun rise, the buildings sparkling, traffic noises picking up as everyone went to work or school or anywhere. And when the sun took its spot in the sky, she would tell herself she would get out that day, sometimes even going as far as getting dressed. But even that would turn into an hour-long ordeal. Forgetting sometimes how long she would sit on the bathroom counter applying makeup under her eyes, forgetting and sitting in the guest room as she looked through her clothes. Eventually emerging to find it almost five PM, the sun making its decent once again as she shed her pants, sitting back on the couch and watching the city shift and change. 

Thelonious had emailed her a couple times, had even called and left a message but she was too anxious to listen. Part of Clarke felt like a fraud. She supposed she always had, maybe had even voiced it a couple times in therapy. How can someone have an eating disorder for such a short amount of time? Do that much damage? She felt fake, like she hadn’t struggled enough to warrant help, not again. Recovery felt like a failure, being happy felt like accepting first prize even though you had cheated. And Clarke hated that. She had always prided herself in working hard in life, getting first because she had fought for it. And she hadn’t fought hard enough to recover yet. 

It was four days after Murphy left that her pants started bunching up, the elastic in the waist no longer doing its job. Clarke had never thought of herself as starving for someone else. What she did was always for her. But as she switched into leggings, stuffing the jeans to the bottom of her bag, she couldn’t help the small electric feeling that ran through her. The thought that _‘what if Bellamy started_ _caring_ _for me again?’_

Facetiming Octavia later that night with Murphy’s leftover pizza from a week ago, Clarke ate two slices by the time the conversation was over. Octavia hadn’t mentioned Bellamy once, and Clarke had refrained from asking, forcing herself to swallow around the greasy food as she smiled and laughed. When they hung up, she had run to the bathroom, a chunk of dough getting caught in her throat. It had hurt and she couldn’t help the tears that came down, the water turning a weird oily mess as red sauce and onion swirled into the pipes. Her stomach kept trying, involuntarily pumping itself as she bent over and hacked, pieces getting stuck and making her cough harder. She had started dreaming of food again, waking up to the taste of artificial icing coating the top of her mouth. Somewhere in her mind remembering the cake pop she had from Starbucks, how she'd eaten it in one bite in her dream. She had started dreaming more of Bellamy as well. Holding onto the strange mixture of emotions they evoked in her, even the bad ones, everything layered over in an air of mystery that can only happen in dreams. She knew it was her fault for how much her mind danced around the boy before she fell asleep. But she couldn't bring herself to stop. 

_Clarke looked around the house, she knew where she was without ever being there before. Everything was clean, pure, untouched._

_Bellamy’s house was empty, bright light shining from the windows with seemingly no source, just a golden glow filtering in as she walked all around. Eventually she made it to the top floor, one room with the door closed. It opened without her even touching it, a mattress settled on the floor and one bookshelf backed against the wall. As she approached it, she could make out the tiny trinkets sitting on the shelves. Her origami crane perched on its side, the doodle she had given Bellamy when she was still in the hospital, the corners of the paper bent and ragged from where she had ripped the page out of Raven’s notebook. Her hand traced over the necklace Octavia wore sometimes, an heirloom from their mother, skipping to the next shelf as she went over some more things, some she recognized, some she didn’t._

_“Are you going to help me set up for the party?”_

_She turned around, Bellamy framing the doorway,_ _lopsided_ _grin on his face._

_Clarke shrugged her shoulders. “There’s nothing here Bellamy.”_

_He came over and stood beside her, placing his hand on top of hers as he guided it back to the paper crane. “There’s everything here.”_

Clarke slowly blinked her eyes open, already missing him as she turned her face into the couch, praying she could pick up the dream where it had stopped. 

On her twelfth day alone, her phone went off somewhere from the bathroom. Clarke had thrown the blankets off, running to catch it before Murphy or O could leave a voicemail. The screen was face down, vibrating a weird way off the tile floor as she picked it up. 

Bellamy’s name flashing on the screen. It continued to ring in her hand, screen eventually going black, her missed call alert flashing once. She had booked a ticket home after that, fingers dancing as she checked for the soonest flights. 

Arkadia did not disappoint. The weather overturned and cloudy as soon as her plane had touched down. She had walked out of the terminal, running for the nearest taxi as drops fell from the sky. Everything felt almost anticlimactic as the car took her closer to home. She didn’t feel nervous or anxious or even happy. The bundle of emotion had dissipated as soon as she had stepped off the plane, and for once Clarke didn’t care where Bellamy was or what would happen. Part of her was relieved to be back home, finally knowing where she was, knowing what to expect of the people here. 

The cab dropped her off sooner than she wanted, the man helping her take her bags out of the trunk. She didn’t even look for his car as she skipped up the steps, breath coming in short gasps as she straightened her clothes, key starting to tremble in her hand. Her other hand came up and pushed the hair out of her face, bending her neck to stare at the ceiling as she forced herself to calm down, heartbeat audible in her own ears. 

Maybe if Bellamy hadn’t been home when she opened the door, they could have continued their awkward dance, Clarke could pretend she didn’t care or wasn’t hurt when he gave her a curt nod, or forced smile. They could both act like she had never left for New York, never left that note for him. She would go back to work and back to therapy and back to pretending until it worked. She could eat enough food in front of her friends to save off worry, and start walking everywhere again. And maybe enough time would pass that in the future they could laugh over how weird they had been. Maybe if Bellamy hadn't been there, Clarke could have moved on, no matter how much it hurt, she could start drinking again, take up the Collins kid on his offer of dinner. They could have faked their way out of the awkwardness and gone back to hating each other. 

But Bellamy was there, mouth falling slightly as she shut the apartment door behind her. Bellamy was there. Clarke took her shoes off slowly, placing the key on the kitchen counter without looking him in the eyes. He was there, and he was sitting on the couch, not speaking. So she slowly made her way around the kitchen, taking as much time as she could to pour coffee grounds in the pot, turn the maker on, getting a glass of water as she waited, just for the sake of doing something. 

Clarke had her back to the living room, hands tapping gently on the water glass. She had to look towards the ceiling when the emotion that had left her suddenly thundered back. Her breath coming in a sudden gasp that was too loud in the silence. The coffee pot continued to drip, and even though she was looking up and gritting her teeth, tears started to fall down her face. She didn’t feel sad though, wasn’t even angry, just exhausted. Though she’d tried not to look at him when she’d pushed the door open, she couldn’t help it. He’d looked exactly the same, which wasn’t a surprise, she hadn't been gone that long. But it felt like an eternity since she’d seen him, _truly seen him_ , not in passing or photos or in dreams. But just Bellamy, messy hair and holy sweatshirt, wide nose and eyes that turned down when he smiled. Her heart ached beyond measure, and if she had been given the chance to die right then and there, she would have. She wasn’t sad, she wasn’t happy. But the moment she saw his face, she felt content, and that would be an easier death than she would be granted. 

The coffee pot dinged three times, the mixture settling in the pot as it finished dripping, and Clarke took another deep breath, the contentment she had grasped onto, the strength she had used to walk into the apartment vanishing. She didn’t pretend anymore, setting the glass on the counter as she sunk to the floor. Closing her eyes as she searched inside herself for that feeling again, grasping for the little memories of him from her dreams that brought comfort. The tiny pieces she would hold onto when she would wake up. Nothing felt right though, and she knew deep down, that feeling was gone. 

Though her eyes were closed, Clarke could see the shadow moving in front of her, she hadn't heard Bellamy get up or move, but she knew he was in front of her, could hear his knees crack as he sat down next to her, the smell of his pine shampoo hitting her, a burst inside her chest as she kept searching. She wanted to open her eyes and tell him to leave, to scream and shove him away, wanted to be dramatic to keep the real conversation away, but she was still as he settled next to her, didn’t resist when he pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her, didn’t push him when he rested his head on hers. 

The coffee pot went off again, three short beeps. Suddenly Clarke found that feeling again. 


	8. Please stop these walls from coming down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep lying to myself  
> Tryin' to be somebody else  
> If you could only see it through my eyes  
> Cause' I keep waiting in your lies  
> Waiting for the time  
> But I can't find the words to say goodbye  
> And I'm crying now  
> Are you over now?  
> Please stop these walls from coming down  
> What the hell, I'm trying (trying), I'm trying (trying)  
> Nothing's free, its hard to be a good woman  
> What the hell, I'm trying (trying), I'm trying  
> Nothing's free, it's hard to be a good woman  
> In this place, in this world, in your eyes  
> It's hard to be a good woman...  
> -Good Woman, Alex Hepburn
> 
> TW some medical talk and graphic descriptions of injuries/gore. We're getting down to the end folks. Thanks everyone again for being so patient. I hope this new year is treating you with kindness. I typed the later half of this like an hour ago so apologies for spelling mistakes etc.

“You know how when you’re a little kid, and you get this extreme happiness feeling? Like you’re usually carefree and happy, but every now and then, you’re in the car with your mom or dad. Maybe the sun is shining through the trees and on your face as you drive by, and you know you’re really close to being home. And suddenly you get hit with this feeling that’s so pure. But as a kid you don’t really know what it is or what it means. It’s just contentment and happiness in such a raw unfiltered form. As you grow older, those little tiny moments are so few and far. And maybe when you’re older they disappear entirely, they become replaced with different feelings of contentment. Like just being happy with someone, going out and realizing you don’t have work the next day, singing at the top of your lungs to some stupid song only you and your best friend know, laughing so hard over an inside joke that no one but you and a select few would understand. It’s not the same though, so maybe you drive along the same roads you did as a kid, you lay down at the park under a tree and let the shade of the leaves dance over your face and pretend you’re ten years old again. But you never get that exact feeling. The harder you try, the farther it slips away from you. It’s not like you’re not happy, you’re just not that same euphoric you used to be. It’s like you reached peak happiness, you took the best drug and got that first high, and you’ll never feel that again even if you reenact the exact same environment. You’ll get close, but it’ll never be like it used to be. That’s what being around you was like for me. It was the pure happiness. Like nothing mattered and I could be content in knowing we weren't doing anything but it meant even more to me. Then you left and shut me out, and I chased that happiness, I told myself it was okay to settle for the second happiness, that I didn’t need complete peace and content, I would even fake it if it meant I could be around you. Because at least I could try and chase that feeling. You left and I started having such vivid dreams, and I got that happiness in the dreams, even if it hurt. I got that feeling and I could be with you and have everything and then I’d wake up and the feeling would drift away just like dreams do. And it was like you leaving me all over again. But I still forced myself to think of you before I fell asleep, I still dwelled as much as I could on the dreams, just so I could chase that feeling. Chase you, I suppose. It was unfair what I did, I put all my happiness on you, and forgot that you were a human, a person, who messed up just like the rest of us. Even though I’d seen it, even though when we first met, I’d experienced it. But I got wrapped up in that feeling. It reminded me so much-  _ you _ reminded me so much of what true happiness could be. I'm not trying to get you to fix my issues, or tell me you love me. I just want to know what I did, that made you block me out completely. I want to know why I’m nothing to you now.” Clarke finished talking, she was looking down at her lap, could see her hands tremor slightly, could see Bellamy shifting in the corner of her eye. They had moved to the couch, a foot of space between them that may as well been a mile long. She could feel it, could feel him withdraw the moment they had taken their seats. Clarke knew If she said nothing, that everything would have gone back to the way it had been. She hurt too much to keep going down that path, knew that it wasn’t an eating disorder that would cause her heart to fail, but the dark hurtful chasm that had grasped onto her insides. The never-ending hole that screamed every time he was near her, the darkness that demanded to feel everything and nothing all at the same time. The fear that robbed her of any joy, that made her shake and want to vomit. If she said nothing, it would kill her.  So she, “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, only understand. It’s stupid because I don’t really understand it myself. I adored you so much when we first met. How could I not? Octavia told me so much about you, how amazing and kind and wonderful you were. And I just thought, ‘wow, here’s someone who knows what sacrifice is, here's someone who’s willing to give up everything for their family. Here’s someone with a heart of gold.’ and you hated me. And that hurt so fucking much because I thought, what's wrong with me that this good person doesn't like me? What does he see that I don't know yet? You were supposed to be kind, you were to everyone else. But you weren't to me, and that must have meant something was wrong with me. I felt so dumb for getting a crush on you. And then you moved here and you were still an asshole but you weren’t. But that was when I was getting sick, really sick, and I didn’t put two and two together, till after I was out of the hospital, and you went back to hating me.” Clarke has to laugh a little at the words coming out of her mouth, at the fact that Bellamy hasn’t said a single thing yet, just letting her deluge all of this. “It’s just who you are. You take care of people, it's like you have to. And I was sick and you took care of me and then I wasn’t sick anymore so you didn’t have to. For so long, I forced that thought out of mind, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. I-” She pinched her nose, crinkled her eyes and looked back at the ceiling to keep from crying again that day. “I don’t expect you to say anything or do anything. You’ve made your stance on all of this clear. I just thought you should know. Sometimes when you're helping someone Bellamy, you’re actually just hurting them. I won’t ever forget you; I’ll probably think of you for the rest of my life.” She forced herself to look at him then, to watch his eyes as he searched hers across that deep divide of the couch. “You did exactly what my father did. You left me and you didn’t even tell my goodbye.” Clarke had to look away as a tear fell down his face, getting up and stretching her limbs, walking into the hallway to gather her bag, pausing as clutched the frame of their door. “You could have at least said goodbye Bellamy.” 

She made it halfway down the stairs, stopping a couple flights before the ground floor, her bag forgotten next to her as she clutched her sides, squinting her eyes and leaning against the wall, sliding till she was sitting down. Clarke was glad she’d told him the truth, even if that meant  losing him forever. It didn’t matter anymore because she didn’t even have him, not one tiny piece of him. 

“So is this our new pattern now?” 

Clarke jumped as Bellamy slid next to her, crossing his feet and leaning onto her. 

“You find somewhere obscure to sit and I come and sit next to you? Or is it the pattern of you telling me something and leaving before I get a chance to respond.”

She was so relieved that he was even there, a laugh bubbling out of her before she could even realize. “I like that a lot better than me trying to talk to you and you completely ignoring me.” 

“Ouch, you’re right on the money with that one.” Bellamy shifted next to her, pressing his leg against hers, she could feel a muscle in her thigh jumping with the contact. 

Clarke sighed, resigning herself to him being there, resting her head against the wall and closing her eyes. “What do you want Blake?” 

“Back to being Blake? I must have fucked up pretty bad.” 

She didn’t bother entertaining him with an answer, just kept breathing through her nose.

“Clarke, I.-” He faltered, clearing his throat before starting again. “I know we didn’t start off on the right foot, and that I was an ass for a majority of you knowing me.  _ But I got to know you _ and it was so hard not getting close to you. You talk about me like I'm the sun and the world  revolves around me, but that’s not true at all. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, the way every one of our friends sees you. You’re the sun, and the oxygen and the water and the glue and the everything.” 

Clarke could suddenly feel Bellamy’s hand gently wrapping around hers, strong fingers grasping her tight. 

“You’re wrong. I would have become your friend regardless of anything else that happened, I just couldn’t help it. You were, _ are _ , so strong and silent and you took everything like a punch to the face and you just turned your head so you could get hit again. I wanted to know why, and how you became so strong. I remember dropping you off to work almost a week before you were hospitalized. Watching you get your stuff out of my car and walking into Polis. I just kept thinking, ‘she keeps getting hit, over and over and over and one day, she's going to get hit so hard, she won't be able to get back up.’ And then you were hospitalized. But you kept getting back up.”

She opens her eyes then, turning her head slightly so she can peak at Bellamy from the corner of her eyes. He’s staring at her so open and honestly that she can feel the stutter in her lungs, can feel the second her body takes to recover as he keeps talking. 

“I fell in love with you. And I didn’t know what to do because the last thing you needed was your best friends' brother, your roommate, the person you trusted to help you, fall in love with you.  So I distanced myself as much as I could. But all I wanted was to be around you and support you. You got out of the hospital and you were better so I thought-.” It was his turn to pause, finally looking away, to the ceiling, and then the wall, finally glancing at his hand wrapping around hers. “I thought it would be okay if I kept distancing myself. You didn’t need me as much so I could step back and try to get my feelings under control. I thought if I could just place you back in my head as a friend, I could be around you again without wanting to constantly touch you. But you were never my friend. I couldn’t place you into something you never were. You were always Clarke, my sisters' friend, the girl who stared right into me. You were always category Clarke, in an entire section of your own. I’m sorry I made you feel like this. When you left and you wrote that letter, I wanted to hop on a plane and go to New York and explain everything. But I thought I would give you some time, you seemed so angry, and you had every right to be.” Bellamy’s hand unclenched around hers, moving under her palm and scooping it up, fingers lacing through hers. “But then Murphy came back and you weren't with him and he made it seem like maybe you were never coming back. I called you finally and you didn’t pick up so I bought a ticket. If you hadn't showed up today, I would be on a flight out in four hours.” Bellamy’s laugh echo's through the stair well, Clarke can't help but smile a little. He sobers up, nudging Clarke’s thigh with his own, finally meeting her eyes again. “I know I can't explain your pain away. If I could go back in time and fix this I would. I just wanted life to stop hitting you Clarke.” 

She searched his eyes for a moment. “You threw a pretty big punch Bel.” 

He smiled but the sadness in his eyes wasn’t lost on the girl. “I know. I won’t do that again. I promise.” 

“How come you didn’t tell me about school or the dinner?” 

He shrugged. “I wanted to wait till I had something to be proud of before I said anything to you. You’re still pretty daunting miss ‘I graduated med school’” Bel was smiling as Clarke let out a snort. “It was Jasper and Monty who planned the dinner. And we kept not talking and I thought ‘I can just keep putting off telling her’ and then the weeks dwindled down to days and then hours and I- I was honestly planning on O and Lincoln to cancel it again, but they hadn't and I just panicked and kept hoping something would come up.”

“What about Echo? That party we had when I got out and you-”

“I know.” His voice was sharp for a moment before he sighed and started again, quieter this time. “I know. I thought if I tried to move on that it would be easier to be around you. I tried to make it work with Echo but she could tell I was in- that I like someone else. I kept her away from everyone for so long, like it was something to be ashamed of. It wasn’t till I saw your face at the party that I knew what I was doing. I was trying to hide it from you, and I was ashamed of it. It’s like everyone knew I liked you, and that being around or with Echo, I was betraying you somehow.”

“We  weren't together though, I shouldn’t have-”

“No but that's what’s worse. We weren't together but you had me, even then. You had me and I’d gone to someone else. I broke it off with her right after the party. I felt so shitty for all of it, like I’d used both of you. Echo was really kind though. Like she knew too.” He searched her face for a moment, his eyes going back and forth, looking for something. His hand let go of hers, coming up and cupping her chin. “Clarke, in your note you said that if you knew what you’d done wrong, you would have said sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong, and I am so sorry I made you feel like you had. You have me. I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

She reached up, placing her hand over his, watching as tears started cascading down his face.

Bellamy kept talking. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And I’m so sorry.” 

They sat like that for a moment, Clarke reaching up with her other hand to wipe the tears that continued down his face. She smiled finally, pulling back a bit. “To think we could have solved this with some  communication .” 

Bellamy laughed again, letting go of her face, running his thumb down her cheek before getting up. “Come on, let's go home.” He  didn't wait for her answer, picking up her bag and  trudging back up the stairs to their apartment. 

Clarke caught up with him, slipping her hand back in his as they made their way inside. 

That night when Clarke was lying in bed, she finally felt like she was home, and everything was okay. She could hear the creaking of the old building, the silence on the streets below. If her breathing wasn’t so loud, she was positive she could've heard her heart. She placed a hand on top of her chest, pulling the blankets higher and closing her eyes. 

_ Bellamy’s party was in full swing, the house still empty as a few chairs littered the outskirts of the room. Clarke could see the faces of her friends walking around in the sunny atmosphere. Bellamy walked up to her, handing a plate over. She looked down at the sandwich. “I’m not hungry Bel.” She tried to push the plate back to him. _

_ “You have to eat Clarke.” He held up his hands. The room going quiet as all their friends turned and watched their exchange. _

_ “I already did though.” _

_ “You’re lying.” He was crying now. “Please just eat!”  _

_ Clarke looked down at herself, could see the bones through her flesh, her skin peeling back as her hand morphed into a skeleton. “I’m not hungry.” But she held onto the plate. _

Clarke woke with a start, her body jolting like she’d just dreamed she had fallen. The clock on her bedside read two AM. Her tongue was rough, lips dry, that’s how she convinced herself to get up, tiptoeing around the apartment, refusing to turn the lights on as she made her way to the kitchen. The old cabinet squeaked as she got a glass out, the floorboards moaned as she turned towards the sink, a rush of water, and then silence. She brought the cup to her lips, gulping as quick as she could before refiling the glass, repeating the motions once more. Clarke gently placed the cup down, not even a sound of the glass hitting the bottom of the sink. She’d felt so good going to bed that night, finally finding that peace she’d been searching for in dreams. She should have known better, the feelings always returned. If not from Bellamy than from-

“-these awful terrible feelings I get. And I don’t understand it!” Raven was shaking her arms wildly in the air, almost knocking her coffee over in the process.

Clarke smiled as she moved both their cups closer to the inside of the table, farther out of the other girls reach. 

“I’m not a jealous person! But like this chick has everyone wrapped around her finger, she complains about the same things over and over, and still people treat her like a little china doll. Like come on guys, other people struggle too.” 

The blonde nodded along, taking a sip of her tea. “I can imagine that would be  frustrating .”

“Okay now you sound like my therapist.” Raven laughed, finally putting her hands down, sitting back and looking out the coffee shop window. “Just tell me I’m not crazy. I don’t hate the girl, but I’m suffering, other people are suffering. I’m not saying she’s not. Maybe she’s just braver than anyone else for showing her suffering. But it stings.”

“I know what you mean. I got a lot of attention when I was sick. It’s nice in a  messed-up way. If that makes sense.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Girl please, you’re talking to one of your own, it makes all the sense.” 

“We get no attention and we keep everything a secret. Then we have undivided attention in the hospital. It’s hard to hand that over after you get a taste, pardon my pun.”

The other girl snorted. “Hand it over? She snatched it. Speaking of taste, you’re looking a little thin. How’s the food stuff?” 

Clarke felt a smile against her will, looking back out the window as she fiddled with her cup. “Off the record?”

“Clearly. You know you can talk freely to me. We’re Mount Weather girls after all.” 

She snorted a bit, finally pushing the cup away. “Well. I’ve fallen a bit into old habits.” She picked at the edge of cup, twirling the sleeve. “Nothing I can’t manage.” 

“Ah, but don’t we all say that? All the time? I said the same thing right before I tried to die.” 

“Well I’m not trying to die.”

“Trying to die, doing the things that get you to death faster, what’s the difference really?” 

Clarke laughed again, looking at the other girl sitting across from her. “Why are you speaking in riddles? Aren’t you meant to be straight forward?” 

“I don’t think you could handle me being straight forward right now.” 

She picked up her tea, bringing it to her lips before pausing. “I’m not  _ sick _ sick . I just hit a bump. Everything will be back too normal soon enough.” She set the cup down, the exact same amount of tea inside, untouched. 

She woke up with a gasp, the clock next to her flashing three AM. The sheets felt drenched as she pushed them back, wiping her hair from her forehead. It was Clarkes fault for blindly reaching for her nightstand, hand overreaching and knocking the glass of water over. A loud ‘thunk’ as the glass fell on the floor, the dribbling of water could be heard like a small river. “Fuck.” Clarke sat up, turning the light on and quickly picking up a stray shirt off the floor, wiping up the puddle that had collected on the table, down the legs, letting the shirt lay over the spot that had collected on the ground. She swung her legs over the bed, groaning quietly as she picked up the glass, sliding her way across the room and cracking the door open. It was dark in the halls, dark in the living room and kitchen, a faint light from the microwave as she refilled her cup. She stood in the darkness a moment longer, eyes adjusting to all the lights that were actually there. The moon coming through the crack in the blinds, the oven and microwave lights, even a glow from the hallway where she had left her door closed, the light escaping through the bottom and leaking out. It was dark but she could still see the outline of things, could still peak over the divide that separated the kitchen and living room and see the couch and the chairs and the table and piles of blankets everywhere. It was dark but if she held her arm in front of herself, lift it so the glow of the microwave softly reflected against her skin, she could see the bone in her wrist poking out, just a little bit. But it was there. 

“How can you even see, it’s so dark out here.”

Clarke jumped at the sound of Bellamy’s voice, the glass slipping from her hand, bouncing off the counter and shattering on the floor. She took a step back, a sharp inhale as the edge of a thick piece sliced through her foot. 

“Shit are you okay?” 

She could see his shadow move across the living room, a light clicking on and suddenly everything was bathed in light. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She turned her foot, sliding backwards past the glass. She couldn’t see the glass through the blood that was accumulating, drops already turning to full pools. “Shit.”

“Fuck, don’t move.” Bel jogged to the entry way, coming back with shoes, handing another pair to her across the island of disaster. 

She slipped the sandal onto her good foot, balancing herself on the counter before hoisting herself up, cradling the bloody foot as Bellamy walked forward. 

“I am so sorry.”

She shook her head. “Not your fault. Can you get me the bottle of rubbing alcohol? It’s under the sink in the bathroom. And the nail kit while you’re at it.”

He looked hesitant for a second before nodding and disappearing. Coming back a few moments later with a bottle and a small bag under his arm, handing the contents over.

Clarke took the things, moving herself so her foot was over the sink, turning the water on and gasping as the blood washed down the drain. She took the bottle of dish soap that was resting near her and poured a generous  amount over the area that was still blotting red. 

“That looks bad. Do you want me to take you to urgent care?” Bellamy was standing next to her, one hand gently placed on her thigh. 

She shook her head, moving her toes a bit as the suds started spreading over the blood. “I mean if I  can't remove this, then I failed med school, really.” 

Bel chuckled a bit. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night anyway?” 

Clarke examined the glass that was protruding from her foot, letting the water wash it a bit longer before she pulled the tweezers out, gripping the edge tightly. “Getting water,  you dork. In case the water and glass all over the floor didn’t clue you in.” She let out a soft laugh, looking at Bellamy as her hand tightened, shard pulled out in one smooth motion. Her eyes started stinging. 

He shook his head, pushing the hair from her face as she poured the rubbing alcohol over the wound, hands shaking as the stinging started to spread. “Why are you even awake at this hour?” 

Clarke watched the blood run down the drain, pointing past Bel across the kitchen. “Can you hand me the  towels ?”

He did, hand going back to her leg. “That  looks like you need stitches.” 

She smiled, applying pressure as she slid off the counter, still cradling her foot in hand. “Yeah well, lucky for all of us I still have  suture kits somewhere in my closet.” 

“Here, let me help you.” 

And before she knew what was happening, Bellamy had placed his hands around her back and knees, easily lifting her off the ground. He carried her over the shards of glass, and through the halls to her room, depositing her softly on the edge of her bed. He made sure to pointedly look at the knocked over glass next to the bed, there was a tiny pool on the bedside table she had missed cleaning. 

“Thanks. Uh, can you check my closet? There should be a black bag on the bottom that has all my medical stuff in it.” 

He did, moving aside piles of her dirty laundry to find the bag and bring it to her. “Are you really going to stitch yourself up?” He sat next to her, moving her hand a bit so he could look at her foot. The bleeding had almost subsided.

“Why not?” She shrugged, letting putting on more pressure as she reached with her other hand to find a kit. “Here, can you keep pressure on this for a second?” She ignored his sighing as she pulled the kit out, tearing it apart and placing the gloves on her hands, taking out the tiny curved needle and thread, the small scissors. “You can let go now.” He did, retracting the  towel that was almost drenched in blood. She took it from his hand, using a clean corner to wipe the hole before letting it drop to the floor. 

Bellamy silently watched as she punctured herself, grasping the tiny needle between hooks and scissors, pulling tightly and making a knot. “ You’re crazy kid, you know that?” 

She huffed out a laugh, tying off the first stitch before cutting the thread and continuing. “My second year I used to go to that butcher shop downtown and purchase like, whole pigs. I’m sure they thought I was crazy but, pig skin is the closest to human. And I had to practice.” She tied off again, trying not to flinch at the intrusive feeling of the needle boring through her skin, willing herself not to feel the needle gliding through her flesh and pop out on the other side. “ Sure glad that wasn’t a complete waste of my time.” 

Bel shook his head, watching her pull at the string. “You never answered me. Why are you even awake right now?” 

“I was getting water. Why are you awake?” 

He stayed quiet for a moment, the sound of scissors snipping, metal on metal and their breathing. “I got sucked into reading Dante’s Inferno. Couldn’t seem to put it down.”

Clarke smiled, sparing him a look before going back to her task. “Oh? And what level are you at now?” 

“The fourth.”

“That’s  greed, right?” 

“Yeah. It’s a good book. Long though.”

“I didn’t know you liked old books like that.” 

“Sometimes. I haven’t read old  literature in a while though. I think the last thing I finished that daunting was Don Quixote.” 

“Well, you’ll have to let me know when you finish it. We can watch As Above So Below and you can tell me how accurate their portrayal of the levels are.” She finished the last stitch, tying off the rest of her thread before snipping it off, rolling the gloves away and incasing all the equipment inside the latex. She looked up at him then, eyes dancing over his creased brow, set lips, the way his eyes studied her. Clarke sighed, bunching up the hazardous material in her hands. “You know, I’ve never been to your childhood home. But I keep having dreams that I’m there with you. It’s completely empty but for some reason you keep asking me to help you set up for a party. And then the party happens and something happens and you always get so upset with me.”

“What happens?” 

She looked away then, fingers lightly tracing over her stitches. Her foot was throbbing now. “You ask me to do something, and I keep refusing and you get _so sad_. It’s not a nightmare, but I always wake up around this time.” She set the trash on the table then, rolling back on the bed and facing the ceiling.

“Will you be able to go back to sleep?” He laid down next to her, arm pressed to hers, pinkies barely touching. 

“Sometimes.” The adrenaline was leaving her, eyes closing against the light as she turned her face towards him. 

“What do I ask you to do?” He was whispering now, breath ghosting over her skin. 

Clarke could hear the hum of the fridge, the ticking of the fan above them as it rotated, could hear Bellamy breathing against her. She licked her lips, hoping that he had his eyes closed as she spoke. “Eat.”

“Clarke.” It wasn’t a question or even a statement. The way he said her name sounded more like a confirmation, the need to know she was still there. Like his voice was reaching out and shaking her, feeling for her with that one word.

“I know.” She linked their hands, eyes still shut as she nestled in closer, finding his shoulder with her chin. Turning so the light wasn’t so  jarring to her eyelids. His breath warm on her forehead as she swung her other arm around his waist. “I know.” 


End file.
